Revisiting Paris

Do you ever feel like you’re not quite getting a grip on things in your life? I’ve been pretty oversubscribed for the past few weeks, both work-wise and personally. It’s a little difficult to make decisions about what’s going to be best for me – whether that entails sleeping decently or going out and getting trashed with constructions workers at The Ivy and waking up with raccoon eyes. Of late I’ve been opting to sleep and catch up on things I like – movies, cooking real meals, reading, talking to my housemates, the late night glass of port. Maybe this is something that all recent grads go through, or maybe it’s of a lengthier duration. Maybe you don’t figure it all out until you’re 27 and have a clearer idea of what you want to make of yourself. I keep telling myself that I should get used to my life here in Princeton before anticipating the next step, but have I ever been good at that? At best I’m myopic about things that require a detached perspective, and anxious about things that shouldn’t matter in the here and now. Still, it’s the reality of me.

I’ve felt a little lonely of late. Don’t get me wrong, I have friends here, both at work and at home. There are things to do – movies in town or on campus, lectures, conferences, etc. They’re great, and it’s nice to feel that even though I’m not in the city, I’m not in some culturally lackluster environment. But still, I occasionally miss the comfort of silence with friends, a silence that doesn’t give rise to concern or loneliness. Does that make sense? I think it also has a fair amount to do with discovering that in a new place, you’re often coerced into pursuing friendships that aren’t necessarily the right ones for you. I don’t like the idea that I won’t find the right crowd for myself. Or it could just be that I myself am in such a bizarre stage in my life right now that the people around me won’t matter – I’ll just shepherd my own awkwardness around with me. As I told Clara today, I only say things like “I’m embracing my unease” when I feel socially and personally capable.

I’ve also developed this weird complex about being dull and boring. Maybe this is because everyone I’ve met here is way more proactive about getting out there on a regular basis than I’ve ever been. They actually think it’s bizarre that I’d like to come home and yawn my way into bed before midnight. Heath seems to take it as a personal affront. I’m a little confused, I guess. I like my friends here, but I’m still sorting how I feel about myself when I’m around them. I don’t know what my role or character here is. At points it’s exciting. But sometimes I wonder what’s really going on under the veneer of partying and gadding about. It’s nice to feel part of a young and outgoing culture, but so foreign as well. I wasn’t in that jello-shot crowd at Columbia, and I haven’t done them here, but with the exception of Clara, I’m definitely one of the few interested in the intellectual climate at Princeton, interested in auditing classes and attending the symposia. Everyone else is either off having casual sex (lots of sex, also another novelty), drinking beer, or discussing sex and beer.

I’m listening to this great cd of American/French music from about 1920-1940. I just love it, it’s full of stuff by Django Reinhardt and Luis Mariano. It’s soothing and uplifting and makes me think of sunny days and lying in hammocks eating apples.

Classes are pretty good in general, although I’ve been ridiculously behind on my reading. Doesn’t that sound silly now that we’re not actually enrolled as students anymore? I love saying it; it gives me this sense of having one foot in the door (guilt) and one foot outside (carefree). The two classes I’m currently auditing are American Fiction 1930-Present (very neat reading list) and Soviet Literature (a little bizarre, this one has about 5 other surly Slavic studies students and an old doddering professor who probably knew everyone we’re reading on a handshaking basis). Clara audits American fiction with me. We skulk in the back row and take furious notes without the faintest idea of what’s going on.

Weekends have been decent – brief excursions into the city, all usually thrown together at the last minute. I went to dinner at "Nam" with my mum and sister on Saturday. I liked it all a lot, but was more interested in the conversation than the food. Although my housemate’s eyes nearly fell out when I told him I was going there – apparently it is a very highly rated Vietnamese restaurant. Brunch was at a Swedish place called Smorgas Café on Stone Street, all the way downtown. It’s my new favorite street in New York – tiny, with cobblestones and old-fashioned streetlamps and tons of small European street cafes with friendly owners. It’s just divine. Of course that's where all the bankers go, but you can't have everything. I'm just glad for a place that isn't dominated by hipsters.

Anyway, this is about it. I’ve been feeling guilty (on top of everything else) for not blogging enough. Things are just a bit complicated right now. Everyone I meet seems to expect me to issue some great ‘big-picture’ statement about my life, but to be honest, I don’t know what the hell I do with my time. Before I know it, the weekend goes by and another week passes, and the only signs of change are the weather and reddening leaves. And I don’t feel like I’ve achieved very much.

It often feels like Paris: I drink too much, make random friendships, worrying about fitting in, struggle to manage work and fun without having one hugely suffer, and feel tired all the time. The nice thing is that this is much more negotiable for me: I already know the guys at the local falafel stand, have located excellent French pastries, and regularly wander over to the public library. It’s just that sometimes I would really like to have that ‘big-picture’ understanding, you know? I’d like to understand why I feel a certain way, or at what point I am in my life right now. It’s both a luxury and a little frightening to live in my head so constantly. But for now there’s this lyrical and tender song called “Paris, tu n’as pas change.” Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe underneath all this there’s some stable undercurrent that I can access.

I read some Whitman today, so I’ll toss it in here for fun; it was so full of joy:

“I celebrate myself, and what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease..."