Joe & I went to a club last night. It wasn't planned; we to a friend's for drinks. The plan was to head home when they went to the club. Then we started listening to LCD Soundsystem and Lady Gaga. Then I really needed to dance. Then I found out that there was no cover charge. Then we were off, walking to the Love Boat in our nearly-matching cardigans (since mine was one that I actually bought for Joe but turned out to be too small–darn).
But let's be honest. Raise your hand if you would be genuinely surprised by Joe & I turning up at a club in some cardigans. That's what I figured. I'm not good at clubs. I make a fool of myself at dance parties, because that's the point.
The real point here is that this semester, I'm making an effort. I'm not good at being social. I'm good at getting overwhelmed by things, staying in & reading for the evening. I'm not good at groups. I've never had a serious group of friends, other than the group of boys since elementary that were more brothers than anything else. My girl friends come and go, strong relationships for a year or two then fizzling–that is, until I got to college & met seriously outstanding women–but that's one-on-one or a group of three. I can handle it. My social-awkwardness shackles don't rise until we get to a group of five.
The group of girls that has formed is somewhere around eight–plus Joe & two other guys. They're lovely, mostly British (& would less awkwardly use words like "lovely"); they're down-to-earth, sincere & loads of fun. They're together frequently, Saturday nights at Love Boat & Sunday mornings a Pinocchio's, a café in the Medieval part of town. I appreciate how kind they all are & how much fun they can make just about anything. I swear if we had a party to watch the mold on our apartment wall grow, they'd have a blast.
I'm going to Pinocchio's today. I'm excited. I'm allowing myself to be myself & to form a stronger circle of friends when I know that–gasp–I'll leave them in a few months. This has been the hardest hurdle for me–really opening up to people when we all seem to be floating in this French sort of Purgatory between college & adult life.
Luckily, the girl I've gotten closest to here, Lauren (the fellow American), understands where I'm coming from with the need to often be alone with myself.* We're tucking ourselves (& Joe) away for the rest of the day to plan the classes we both teach–knocking out lots of work for the semester–while simultaneously eating my homemade pop tarts & watching Bourne.
And no I will not shut up about these pop tarts until you make them for yourself.
So I' doing better already this semester. I'm letting go of the things that I put on my to-do list. You know, those things like reading & yoga that are supposed to be FUN but I've made obligations? Those things like laundry & grocery shopping that won't kill you if you don't get to them RIGHT now?
The first thing you learn in swimming lessons is that if you don't relax your body, you can't float. I'm learning to float, going with the flow & letting myself get out of the apartment.
*I justify this by quoting Montaigne quoting Tibullus. "In solitude, be company to thyself." It's hard for me to argue with Montaigne, largely seen as the father of memoir.
To be continued tomorrow with equally exciting news. Le deuxième semestre: les cours. I'm teaching even more entertaining classes, & I can't wait to get them going.
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2 comments:
I want my cardigan back.
no. absolutely not. i would say that it's keeping me warm, as i'm wearing it right now, but that's not even true. "it's just for decoration. that's it and that's all."
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