When I was in high school, all I could think about was college. My life would be so much better in college, I was sure of it. I would be in class just a few hours a day, certainly no professors would condemn me for chewing gum, there would be no strict dress code, no curfew…Hello, freedom! Once in college of course, I dreamed of my life after graduation. I just knew I would get a fabulous job, and there would be no more all night sessions memorizing the linguistic patterns of Native Americans, or papers analyzing the rhetoric of gender trouble. No more stupid fraternity parties and fashion show football games. No, I had grown tired of it all rather quickly; I was ready for my ‘real life’ to begin.
But then came graduation, followed by an internship in NYC. When that wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, I longed for London, where I felt sure my true destiny lie. Once in London, I found my destiny alright, but I convinced him that our lives would be much better in the States. Once back in the good ole USA, Louisville of all places, I just knew that things would only improve if we moved to Atlanta. Once in Atlanta, well, we all know where I went from there.
To say that my grass looks greener elsewhere is an understatement, and I’m beginning to think that I may have a problem. It’s not that I’m unhappy really, but I keep looking for a way to make things better. And that way always seems to involve packing my bags. To quote the wise words of my favorite band, Soul Miner’s Daughter (I’m still hoping for a reunion), “Everywhere is perfect but the place you want to leave.” Is that true? Is that me?
The grass here is pretty green, I guess...
Moose and I at the park where we (try to) run.
I’ve been in Africa only seven weeks, and already I can feel it happening, even if just with the little things. At the movies, for example, I sigh as I take a handful of cold, usually stale popcorn. “I miss real movie theater popcorn,” I say. Roger insists that it tastes the same, but he’s truly delusional. With my mouth full of stale popcorn I continue, “If only we were at the movie theater in Atlantic Station.” Roger reminds me that the crowds at Atlantic Station drove me crazy, never mind that it cost us $9.50 for each ticket. Here, it costs us 20 Rand each – that’s less than $3 a ticket. Plus, a big bucket of popcorn (albeit stale) and two soft drinks are a grand total of 33 Rand – that’s less than five bucks. So he has a point, but what I wouldn’t give to watch a movie in Atlanta, I think.
I’m also getting frustrated by the fact that no one here seems to understand a word I say. I repeat myself, I speak slowly, I spell things – it’s a bit ridiculous. It’s not my family, they usually know what I mean, but waiters, clerks, parking lot attendants, and anyone I speak to over the phone – well, I may as well be speaking Japanese. But then I remind myself, that part of why I love living abroad is that sense of being unique. It makes me feel exotic to hear, “Oh, I adore your accent.” Me? I have an accent? Well, apparently so, and no one seems to understand it!
But then came graduation, followed by an internship in NYC. When that wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, I longed for London, where I felt sure my true destiny lie. Once in London, I found my destiny alright, but I convinced him that our lives would be much better in the States. Once back in the good ole USA, Louisville of all places, I just knew that things would only improve if we moved to Atlanta. Once in Atlanta, well, we all know where I went from there.
To say that my grass looks greener elsewhere is an understatement, and I’m beginning to think that I may have a problem. It’s not that I’m unhappy really, but I keep looking for a way to make things better. And that way always seems to involve packing my bags. To quote the wise words of my favorite band, Soul Miner’s Daughter (I’m still hoping for a reunion), “Everywhere is perfect but the place you want to leave.” Is that true? Is that me?
The grass here is pretty green, I guess...
Moose and I at the park where we (try to) run.
I’ve been in Africa only seven weeks, and already I can feel it happening, even if just with the little things. At the movies, for example, I sigh as I take a handful of cold, usually stale popcorn. “I miss real movie theater popcorn,” I say. Roger insists that it tastes the same, but he’s truly delusional. With my mouth full of stale popcorn I continue, “If only we were at the movie theater in Atlantic Station.” Roger reminds me that the crowds at Atlantic Station drove me crazy, never mind that it cost us $9.50 for each ticket. Here, it costs us 20 Rand each – that’s less than $3 a ticket. Plus, a big bucket of popcorn (albeit stale) and two soft drinks are a grand total of 33 Rand – that’s less than five bucks. So he has a point, but what I wouldn’t give to watch a movie in Atlanta, I think.I’m also getting frustrated by the fact that no one here seems to understand a word I say. I repeat myself, I speak slowly, I spell things – it’s a bit ridiculous. It’s not my family, they usually know what I mean, but waiters, clerks, parking lot attendants, and anyone I speak to over the phone – well, I may as well be speaking Japanese. But then I remind myself, that part of why I love living abroad is that sense of being unique. It makes me feel exotic to hear, “Oh, I adore your accent.” Me? I have an accent? Well, apparently so, and no one seems to understand it!
Here’s another one, again food related (What can I say? I’m a girl who likes to eat!). This past weekend I mentioned to Roger how much I missed our date nights at BW3’s, our favorite place for wings and trivia in Atlanta. It was nothing fancy, but I’m not a particularly fancy girl. Roger reminded me that I often used to pine for Nando’s, our ritual Sunday night meal in London. “At least we can get Nando’s here in Joburg,” he said, and sure enough, Tuesday night he took me on a date to Nando’s. The boy has an answer for everything (both an adorable and infuriating trait).He’s right though. I do have a tendency to pine for what I can’t have, and I think that’s a tendency in all of us, to an extent. I’ve listed a few silly examples of the things I’m longing for from my past life, but the main things I miss are people, of course. I’m afraid as long as I have loved ones scattered across the planet, the grass will always seem greener somewhere – that is until I can scoop up everyone I love and take them to an island. Yes, if I could live on a beach with everyone I love from Atlanta, Joburg, Chicago, Edinburgh, California, Nashville, Texas, Connecticut, New York, Virginia, D.C., North Carolina, Louisville, London…well, maybe then I would be content.
But then again, I might still miss Nando’s.
3 comments:
I am so enjoying reading your blog. I guess I have a new addiction, like I need another one. UGH.
I miss you tons. I don't know if you ever even knew this about me, but I was a journalism major in college until partying took over. I miss it. A friend from Florida gave me a journal for her going away present and I never even used it. SO SAD !!!!
My grammar has gotten so poor from the internet and writing cryptically and using emoticons and everything else. I think I have been inspired by you today, again.
Britt
Robyn -- Greener Grass reminds me of a Seinfeild episode a few years back when he did a stand-up routine at the beginning of the show (those were the BEST!). Anyway, he was doing a piece about guys and their remotes-"It's not what's ON TV, it's what ELSE is on TV!" I think we're all a lot like Jerry & Robyn. But of course, Charlie's (you know, the guy on the OTHER side of the hill!) advice to all of us is live life here and now! Still, I'm looking forward to August when you and Roger come back to where the grass really IS greener!
Sometime in the future, can I be your nanny? No pressure here! I just may need a room in the basement. MISS YOU!
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