hobo chic

no one told me that culture shock is more like a slow leak in your bike tire rather than a glorious, dramatic blow out. one day you're rushing out the door just to find that everything's gone flat, a sneaky and subtle change that you never realise until too late.

what have i done, back in my homeless home? i've spun in a zichr, been brushed with the wind of a sufi's skirt, walked on the docks, attended the mass of a harp-playing minstrelette, gone on a 4 am hurricane hunt, laughed too much, watched the exploits of pamela the kitchen bandit, stepped gingerly among the corpses of hundreds of huge fish, pushed loitering to new limits, fallen backwards into mounds of snow, climbed mountains, been kicked out of a labyrinth, driven to a cidery, helped to create mount pie-suvias... and it's only been a few weeks. sometimes it feels like a fantastic celebration of hobo chic, other times i'm just a jobless bum leeching off of my dear, far too tolerant friends.

and now i'm back in my long ago stomping grounds sharing a roof with my family for a few weeks. is it just me, or is this the least christmasy-feeling christmas in our collectively known history? it's strange to call a place with no cats my home... and i just got a kiss on the head from my mom who wished me good dreams.

are my dreams good?

for anyone who is not aware, i'm headed to italy at the end of january. i can't tell you why exactly, but i know that i've got to go. i'm sick of the cocktail party syndrome. i'm sick of worrying about my future based on what i can write in my resume. essentially, i don't want to trap myself in that rusty, old natalie trap. i don't want to live my life trying to impress or placate other people. i want to make everyone a little nervous. i want to make myself a little nervous. my whole life i've had people supporting me and claiming that i have so much potential, which is an amazing and inspiring position to be in. however, this same support has always led to me ridiculous heights of stress as i tried desperately to live up to my supposed potential and prove myself worthy of all the priviledges that are part of my life. so i'm going to italy. i still can't get over the feeling i had when i watched federico's cab pull away from me and slowly disappear into the crushing anonymity of india's chaotic streets. i know that this darting about may seem inexcusably whimsical, i know that it may seem foolhardy, but it's what my me tells me to do. so shut up and do it.