It's going to be hard. They did tell us this. But the never told us what little things are going to make it so darn hard. I miss my clothes at home - I just want to be able to shrug into my drama jacket with the masks on the front and zip it up against the cold, and remember all the great times with the crazy people I called my troupe. I miss my trusty old history club tshirts that had memories of midnight Apples to Apples parties and unfortunate debate arguments. I want my Washington DC hoodie, with its strange and unidentifiable stain on the shoulder, but its warm soft fuzzy inside that was guaranteed to keep me warm on a freezing cold...August? day. I miss my shoes and socks and hoodies and tshirts...
I miss not understanding a class because the material was new, instead of the language the material was presented in...I really miss hugs from my mom and dad. I miss walking in the door and being assaulted by my dogs. I miss knowing people at school....
But I'm getting better. Sometimes all of this stuff will just come at me at once, and I won't be able to think of the things that I know are good. I won't be able to remember them because of the impenetrable wall of unhappy things coming at me. I'm making friends at school. Slowly, but I am. There's a girl in my choir class who is really nice. We're going out for Chinese next week, because she doesn't have classes and a I have a four hour break. I'm beginning to recognize people. Today, while I was sitting on the U-Bahn wall waiting for the bus, a couple girls from school recognized me and waved.
I think that all of these bad things are coming at me so often because I'm so busy that when I have the time to sit down and think the things that come first are the things that I'm missing. Three days a week, I get up at eight o'clock, get ready for school, sit on a bus for forty minutes, walk the 500 or so meters to school, sit in classes I don't understand, and then get on a bus for an hour, and then get on a train for fifteen, and then walk a kilometer to my German lesson, then go back home. It's, as unlikely and impossible as it seems, a rather exhausting day. One more day out of the week, I have class from eight until eleven thirty, at which point I can come home for four hours before going back to school for a three hour art class. I am not the best artist in the world. In fact, I'm probably among the worst. On a good day, I can draw a stick figure and people will recognize it as such. But...somehow, and I don't know how this is, I'm kind of enjoying that class. The teacher calls all of the stuff I draw "rather good, not quite good, but rather good." I can tell he's not massively impressed, but I'm hoping that he recognizes the fact that I'm trying. He's really funny and a very smile-y guy, but he smokes and you can smell it on him all the time.
I'm really enjoying my exchange so far. I really am. But with all of the things I'm doing, with all of the work that I'm doing, it gets hard to remember the good things. And with so much stuff to do for school, or German, it's hard to meet up with my friends, something I desperately want to do. Hopefully, I'll get more used to the schedule within a week, get less exhausted and be able to meet up with them. And then, there's always the fact that in less than a month, I won't be going to Frohnau three times a week. That is one good thing that I will NOT be forgetting anytime soon, I can assure you.
So, from my place in my city, I'm wishing all of you who are reading my blog in your place, in your city, a good night and an even better day to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment