The Heart is an Idiot but it Always Wins

Friday night, and they day before my brother’s wedding. I remember calculating at the age of like, 8, that possibly by the time I was 16 he could be getting married. I couldn’t wait for the wedding and hoped ardently that I would be right. It kind of adds an interesting aire of nostalgia that tonight, at 24, I am where I am and feeling the way I do hours before the event. -Also that I’ve still, to this day, never been to a wedding.

I’m going back to France on Monday, and I know that in spite of my love for the country, it’s not exactly the responsible or wise thing to be doing. With my current education, (an undergrad in art history and one year into my MA in art admin with a flawless GPA) I could move to San Francisco, Portland, or any US city of my choice and find well paying gallery positions that I am more than qualified to take. Would this make me happy? Yes. Would this be a wise move for my future career? Definitely. Would I undoubtedly meet scads of entertaining people and assuredly fall in love again? My heart squeaks a little here but my brain answers “of course.”

So what this boils down to is that I’m being an idiot. I love France and yes, I’m in love with someone in France. But neither he or the country are particularly likely to become home or family, so nesting there and biding my time just in case one or the other should become a reality is romantic, but probably 100% retarded.

What am I doing and how many people are wondering when I'm going to snap out of it? 

Sun Up

It's darkest just before the sunrise. Whoever came up with that wasn't just trying to be poetic, in fact, I suspect they were probably in love with a European while saddled with a passport from the other side of the world watching in dismay as their visa was quickly running out. Mere weeks ago I was flailing in complete obscurity while the clock was ticking, and suddenly, now, new hope and solutions are appearing all around me like a buried city in a wind storm. And not a moment too soon!

I'm soon to be enrolled in an online masters program in Art Administration. I'll be free to be nomadic and spontaneous while at the same time doing something responsible and specifically designed for my dream career: owning my own art gallery. The MA opens up all sorts of internship possibilities with galleries and museums in France, allowing me to come back with my current visa, erasing all my previous angst about embassy visits on the West Coast, and even offering up a solution for participating in paid activity while abroad. TMI has given his notice on his apartment and will soon split the rent here with me and stick his name downstairs on the intercom. Not only is it heartwarming and financially alleviating, it means I get to keep this place when I leave and not worry about traveling with every last one of my possessions when I go back to Hawaii. And, finally, my favorite development: TMI has a 5 month internship starting in August of next year and going until December. He's been applying at vineyards on the West Coast, which means July with my family in Hawaii, six months on the west coast probably interning in fabulous galleries in San Fran while living with the man I love, and then traversing the Pacific ocean once again with him in tow for Christmas with my family. That's a sunny future! And it popped up just when things looked so bleak I was ready to give up.

In one of my favorite emails from my best friend, she told me "it will all work out in the end; and if it doesn't, it's probably not the end yet." And while "just before the sunrise" may seem like a lotta hooey when you're stumbling along in the dark, I know now to practice patience. All those times I was wishing future-me could show up and give me advice, I now know what I would say: Every situation, now matter how good or bad, will change. So chillax!

In final news check out this banner I made:

You may also wanna check out the fabulous blogger I'm doing it for, and my etsy store if you may want one for yourself ;)

Thanks for reading!

Cave Dreams and Jesus

Last night I dreamt I was Ayla from Clan of the Cavebear and having all sorts of hot pre-historic sex with a blonde, virile caveman. Then, without warning, he turned into a surfer dude and left me for a woman of modernity, driving away in a mini cooper all the while I protested that he would never find another girl who came from the time of mammoths.

Six days since TMI left for his three week internship, and I interpret this dream as the beginnings of some painful sex withdrawals. I know I mentioned an intention to be an honorable girlfriend but promiscuity seems to glitter through my veins regardless of where I firmly set my brain.

I'm spending my mornings pulling espressos and sugaring waffles, trying to pass time and keep myself safely distracted. Everyone who works in this cafe is insane. Firstly because they are all a rare breed of French Jesus-freaks; and secondly for a hoard of individual quirks and eccentricities. Alex, who I'm working with today, is staggeringly cross-eyed. He moves around the kitchen flawlessly, but just looking at him can induce a headache.

We're in a lull at the present moment and he's sitting across from me intently reading "La Bible, Le texte original avec les mots d'aujourd'hui." His computer next to him has the words "Jesus et Alex" rotating in 3D for his screensaver. Meanwhile, and unbeknownst to him, I sit mere feet away reliving sexy pre-historic blasphemy.