Sometimes I’m scared of how not scared of committment I am. Perhaps this is because I know that despite how we would normally feel bound to something, the truth is that we choose every moment to be who we are, do what we’re doing, and to be with who we’re with. There is no moment when you can’t just choose “no” and walk out the door. There’s no crisal point from which you can’t turn back. Our love of a good plot and the human dilemma would like to say differently, but at any point you can run away to a different state or a different country, leave every aspect of your old life behind and become a new person (as new as you’d like to be, anyway).
This has always been something of a lure to me. Growing up, as we become the people we are, we are raised and nurtured and taught and shown how to be and what to be. We are, in short, pushed along certain paths that we’ve little control over. Unless we jump the rails at some point, these early pushes can continue to guide our lives throughout, so that each moment is just a reaction to a previous moment, which is also just a reaction, which leads all the way back to an action taken that wasn’t even of your choosing, but was made for you. Moving to a foreign country signifies to me a rebirth; a jumping of the tracks and a making it on your own. Learn the language, the culture, how to interact with people, but do it all on your own, with no one making choices for you. The image of the loner is so fucking romantic, after all, that it’s hard to get away from. I imagine myself, reborn in Paris, and I know no one. I go to the same cafe every day, and I write and I read, and I study or do whatever it is I am in Paris to do aside from be reborn; and it rains a lot and I’m fucking lonely because I don’t know anybody and everyone is speaking French anyway.
I do speak French, contrary to personal belief. I.E. I do know how to speak French, but I never do. Go figure. The loner is a powerful figure, but it’s easy to forget his flaw: he gets lonely. Even so, sometimes it feels like all the choices I make are based around the idea of comfort, because I’m not willing to completely divest myself of … myself, and become me anew. On the other hand, I know that doing so would not necessarily be anything more than a somewhat masochistic social experiment, or a way to prove something to myself. It’s enticing, even so.
The world’s full enough of strangers,
perhaps there’s no need that I become
a stranger to myself.
One reply on “In which I wax tangential”
Very nice post!
I’ve done the ‘foreign loner’ thing three times and it does get lonely.
Sweden was so bad at the beginning I contemplated throwing myself in front of a car during my lowest points, just to be able to go home without losing face (“Oh, she couldn’t handle being an exchange student”).
I lived in France for a year. I didn’t have the dusty garret in a romantic quartier. Instead, I lived in a dirty residence outside the city centre. For the first few months, I was alone and lonely. I’d walk alone through the city, sure that everyone was staring at me and giggling behind my back. I tried thinking of myself as the exotic foreigner but we all know French girls are infinitely more sexy and mysterious than the average Canadian. I did manage to get an Italian boyfriend out of it though, and I made tonnes of friends, so it wasn’t bad at all in the end!
Now that I’m in Romania, I have the chance to start “anew”. Now I am truly the “loner”. I live alone. I’m alone at work right now. I cook alone. I eat alone. I live in my own little bubble. Sometimes I imagine that I’m living my own autobiography. A young Canadian in Timisoara. I choose the music, the camera angles and the actors.
Do it. Live abroad. Learn the language, the culture and the customs. You will be a changed person in the end, but you could also end up as screwed up as me. One of my best friends is a “third culture kid” (her parents are immigration officials and she’s lived all around the world). She thinks I’m a TCK too. Now I’m afraid to make friends because I can’t bring anyone home. I tried the long distance relationship with the Italian and that ended horribly.
You will also discover strength you didn’t know you have. Your days will cease to be Mondays and Tuesdays, but will become “Quantum Leap Day” and “Crossing Jordan Day” (in accordance to whatever show is on TV that night). The only problem with going away is coming back. Your life continues as everyone else’s did, but you weren’t part of it. It’s almost like waking up from a coma.
But do it. Or if worse comes to worse, come visit me in Romania and I’ll hook you up!