[Let me preface this post by saying it is a few days old and I am since feeling better about things...one more hurdle to clear...]
I feel like crap right now.
There are 3 or 4 moments from the last few weeks that keep running through my mind. I’ve tried to make myself stop thinking about them, but it is futile. Then I asked myself why I wanted to stop thinking about them.
Maybe I feel like crap right now because the last few weeks have been so rich. What is making me feel like crap? The fact that these people, these moments, these memories are now gone. If they had never existed in my life, then I wouldn’t be feeling like this, would I?
If Sara had never put her arm through mine while we were walking around downtown Rome, then I wouldn’t be thinking about that exact moment right now. I wouldn’t have thought about it 100 times throughout the day today. What is better – missing an amazing moment that you wish you could relive…or never living that moment in the first place?
It sucks right now. But these days are not the ones that last. The moments that I am now thinking about are what stay with us for all of our days. They are what endure. Maybe it will be a while before I feel better. Maybe it will be a while before another one of those moments comes my way. Maybe it will be tomorrow.
We never know what the tide may bring in…
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Change?
Well, I said goodbye to the girl tonite. We kissed each other’s cheeks, as is customary in Italy, we looked at each other’s eyes for just a moment, as if each of us knew what the other was thinking…and I watched her walk away.
I had promised myself that I was gonna give her an excerpt from my first post about Rome. The part about her teaching the Italian children and about the night she told me that she fancied me.
I didn’t show her.
After our “graduation lunch”, Sara, Philippa and I went to Villa Borghese and laid out in the sun. It’s odd, really. When you know that the time is coming when you will have to say goodbye to someone who you don’t want to say goodbye to. There’s nothing you can do because, well…who can stop the wind from blowing? Who can stop time from passing?
No one can.
Her flight was already booked. Her boyfriend was already waiting for her back in England. Sure, I wanted to move my lips onto hers. But I didn’t. Maybe I’m growing disillusioned. Like I’ve said before, I haven’t had an honest-to-God relationship since Nicole. March of 2002 – that’s when I broke up with her. That’s when I broke her heart. I can still see her sobbing face, trying to push me out of the way to leave my room – me trying to hold her, trying to protect her from the pain that I was causing her.
I desperately wanted to show Sara what I am. I wanted to bring her flowers on her birthday. I wanted to show her what I wrote about her – how much I thought of the moments we shared. I wanted to show her how valuable she is.
But in the end, I just stopped myself. Maybe the complications that arose with Jaime had something to do with this, and maybe what happened with Amanda, too. Maybe if Sara emails me, I will email her back the excerpt from that post. Maybe I’ll tell her: “I honestly hope you and James live happily ever after. But if you don’t…then come back to Rome and let me show you how amazing you are.”
I just don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know how much any of this matters to anyone but me. Maybe no one cares about this stuff anymore. Maybe love is merely convenience for most people. Maybe it’s shrugged off as nothing more than electric signals firing in our brains. Maybe it’s something akin to what chocolate does for most people.
I think it was the right thing to do…leaving it be with Sara. But my God, am I gonna miss that laugh. That ridiculous sense of humor. The way she sang before class in the mornings. In a musical sense…it was horrid. But somehow I just couldn’t get enough of it. The time she put her arm thru mine, as we were walking around downtown Rome. The possibility of what may never be. Some people reading this may think, “Well, that was the mature thing to do, Jonathan. You’re learning and you’re growing up.” I don’t know if I want to grow up and do the “mature” thing. That may sound naive and selfish. But what do you think about whenever you see a child playing in the sun, trying to catch a butterfly? You think innocence, purity, and unfiltered realism. They are unconcerned with how they look or what others think. They just want to catch the butterfly and feel the warmth of the sun on their faces. I don’t know what to call it, that thing which children have…but we lose it when we “grow up and mature”. We are worse for it.
And so it ends. The course that I literally just started is somehow now over. The people that I just introduced myself to are now going their separate ways. Possibilities are now Improbabilities. Another stage ends just as another one begins.
It was frightening leaving the States for Rome, starting this class. But it’s infinitely more frightening right now. No one is here to help. No one is here to pick me up at the airport, or to tell me exactly how to teach English, or what my daily schedule is going to be. Or when the next “Sara” is going to come my way. In truth, I am terrified as I sit here writing this.
I wish that Sara was staying in Rome to teach. We could take this step together. We could discuss lesson plans and students and pay rates and how beautiful Piazza Navona is and how crazy Campo de Fiori is at night.
But as it stands…I am alone. One girl is definitely staying here and another is wavering, likely to go back to Britain. It’s surprising how few of us are staying in Rome to look for employment.
And so this group that I thought would be nothing if not made of camaraderie, has broken apart. Leaving me…standing against the horizon…alone.
Should I have expected anything else?
I had promised myself that I was gonna give her an excerpt from my first post about Rome. The part about her teaching the Italian children and about the night she told me that she fancied me.
I didn’t show her.
After our “graduation lunch”, Sara, Philippa and I went to Villa Borghese and laid out in the sun. It’s odd, really. When you know that the time is coming when you will have to say goodbye to someone who you don’t want to say goodbye to. There’s nothing you can do because, well…who can stop the wind from blowing? Who can stop time from passing?
No one can.
Her flight was already booked. Her boyfriend was already waiting for her back in England. Sure, I wanted to move my lips onto hers. But I didn’t. Maybe I’m growing disillusioned. Like I’ve said before, I haven’t had an honest-to-God relationship since Nicole. March of 2002 – that’s when I broke up with her. That’s when I broke her heart. I can still see her sobbing face, trying to push me out of the way to leave my room – me trying to hold her, trying to protect her from the pain that I was causing her.
I desperately wanted to show Sara what I am. I wanted to bring her flowers on her birthday. I wanted to show her what I wrote about her – how much I thought of the moments we shared. I wanted to show her how valuable she is.
But in the end, I just stopped myself. Maybe the complications that arose with Jaime had something to do with this, and maybe what happened with Amanda, too. Maybe if Sara emails me, I will email her back the excerpt from that post. Maybe I’ll tell her: “I honestly hope you and James live happily ever after. But if you don’t…then come back to Rome and let me show you how amazing you are.”
I just don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know how much any of this matters to anyone but me. Maybe no one cares about this stuff anymore. Maybe love is merely convenience for most people. Maybe it’s shrugged off as nothing more than electric signals firing in our brains. Maybe it’s something akin to what chocolate does for most people.
I think it was the right thing to do…leaving it be with Sara. But my God, am I gonna miss that laugh. That ridiculous sense of humor. The way she sang before class in the mornings. In a musical sense…it was horrid. But somehow I just couldn’t get enough of it. The time she put her arm thru mine, as we were walking around downtown Rome. The possibility of what may never be. Some people reading this may think, “Well, that was the mature thing to do, Jonathan. You’re learning and you’re growing up.” I don’t know if I want to grow up and do the “mature” thing. That may sound naive and selfish. But what do you think about whenever you see a child playing in the sun, trying to catch a butterfly? You think innocence, purity, and unfiltered realism. They are unconcerned with how they look or what others think. They just want to catch the butterfly and feel the warmth of the sun on their faces. I don’t know what to call it, that thing which children have…but we lose it when we “grow up and mature”. We are worse for it.
And so it ends. The course that I literally just started is somehow now over. The people that I just introduced myself to are now going their separate ways. Possibilities are now Improbabilities. Another stage ends just as another one begins.
It was frightening leaving the States for Rome, starting this class. But it’s infinitely more frightening right now. No one is here to help. No one is here to pick me up at the airport, or to tell me exactly how to teach English, or what my daily schedule is going to be. Or when the next “Sara” is going to come my way. In truth, I am terrified as I sit here writing this.
I wish that Sara was staying in Rome to teach. We could take this step together. We could discuss lesson plans and students and pay rates and how beautiful Piazza Navona is and how crazy Campo de Fiori is at night.
But as it stands…I am alone. One girl is definitely staying here and another is wavering, likely to go back to Britain. It’s surprising how few of us are staying in Rome to look for employment.
And so this group that I thought would be nothing if not made of camaraderie, has broken apart. Leaving me…standing against the horizon…alone.
Should I have expected anything else?
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Make It Go Away
How do you reason out something like this??
If I take just about every single individual characteristic and value it on it’s own, I shouldn’t be attracted to her. Physically, she doesn’t do that much for me. She seems like she needs to be the center of attention just slightly more so than I’d prefer. She thinks she’s right all of the time. Literally. Her cup MUST be the one on the right, because well, she’s right. When her current boyfriend broke up with her a while back, she immediately jumped into bed with one of her exes. She doesn’t think she’s ever made a mistake. She told me so…with a straight face.
I have tried in earnest to convince myself to not like her. No, I’ve tried to make myself hate her. I have sat in Piazza del Popolo and conscientiously thought all negative thoughts about her.
But I’ll be damned if it just doesn’t work.
I went to class today in a really foul mood. I might have spoke 20 words all day. Sara even said to me “You’re being quiet today Jonathan.”
“Me?”
That’s all I said, then I shrugged my shoulders – I guess in an effort to show her how displeased I am. But at the end of the day, all I wanted was for her to be looking at me during class. For her to stop on the way out and ask me if I wanted to watch a movie with her back at her place. Simple, ain’t it?
No, I guess not.
And so now I’m sitting here alone, writing this, thinking about her, knowing that I should be studying, and I’m drinking Rum & Cokes.
I’m drinking alone. And a night on the town is not in the immediate future. I’ve never done this before. That’s how I know something is wrong.
Yea, sure…I like her accent. But I like her laugh so much more. I like it when she straightens her almost-curly hair. I like it when she puts her face really close to her desk when she’s reading or doing a worksheet. I do like her eyes.
I guess when everything is laid out in front of you…nothing else matters other than how you feel.
She’s just a girl. I’m just a boy. And I do like her.
If I take just about every single individual characteristic and value it on it’s own, I shouldn’t be attracted to her. Physically, she doesn’t do that much for me. She seems like she needs to be the center of attention just slightly more so than I’d prefer. She thinks she’s right all of the time. Literally. Her cup MUST be the one on the right, because well, she’s right. When her current boyfriend broke up with her a while back, she immediately jumped into bed with one of her exes. She doesn’t think she’s ever made a mistake. She told me so…with a straight face.
I have tried in earnest to convince myself to not like her. No, I’ve tried to make myself hate her. I have sat in Piazza del Popolo and conscientiously thought all negative thoughts about her.
But I’ll be damned if it just doesn’t work.
I went to class today in a really foul mood. I might have spoke 20 words all day. Sara even said to me “You’re being quiet today Jonathan.”
“Me?”
That’s all I said, then I shrugged my shoulders – I guess in an effort to show her how displeased I am. But at the end of the day, all I wanted was for her to be looking at me during class. For her to stop on the way out and ask me if I wanted to watch a movie with her back at her place. Simple, ain’t it?
No, I guess not.
And so now I’m sitting here alone, writing this, thinking about her, knowing that I should be studying, and I’m drinking Rum & Cokes.
I’m drinking alone. And a night on the town is not in the immediate future. I’ve never done this before. That’s how I know something is wrong.
Yea, sure…I like her accent. But I like her laugh so much more. I like it when she straightens her almost-curly hair. I like it when she puts her face really close to her desk when she’s reading or doing a worksheet. I do like her eyes.
I guess when everything is laid out in front of you…nothing else matters other than how you feel.
She’s just a girl. I’m just a boy. And I do like her.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Angry Rant (Sorry in Advance)
It’s the lesson. Again.
The same one I’ve been learning over and over and over for years. Life keeps shoving the lesson down my throat. I swallowed it up the first time I encountered it – a convenient reason to keep any and everyone at a distance. To keep from having to deal with all the crap that comes with caring. Why care, when no one appreciates it? Girls don’t appreciate good guys who care; they appreciate guys who grow weed in the storage closet. Obviously.
Recently, I had grown to resent the lesson. But why? What good has that done me of late??
Jack Shit…that’s what.
RELY ON NO ONE. BE AFFECTED BY NO ONE.
It’s so clean, so simple. If only I could buy into it once again.
What is it this time, you ask?? Well, dammit, what is it every time?? I’m sitting here in my Roman apartment at 1 frickin a.m. and I feel like the most retarded and gullible person in the history of the universe.
Whoever invented the whole “hot and cold” thing that girls do to guys…well, I’ve found the person who’s perfected the technique. What the hell is the point to that, anyway? What happened in the girl’s life to make her have a need to play this game?? If you like someone…JUST GO WITH IT. If you don’t like that person, then SO BE IT. And so here I am again, getting sucker punched. Happens every time, it seems.
It’s always something…ain’t it?? They either act differently after 6 months compared to when you first met them, or they throw themselves at you one night, only to pull the exact opposite the following night, or they only want you for sex, or they’re completely psychotic. Pick one. Or two…whatever.
“You’re really lovely, I quite fancy you, Jonathan…now I’m going to wrap my leg around yours and stroke my foot up and down your leg while I’m asking you if you fancy me” somehow turned into “ “.
Yep…you’re seeing that right. Quotation marks with a blank space in between. That’s all I’ve got right now from Sara. Explain that one. And don’t even think about asking me what happened, cause I have no idea. It’s enough to make a man go crazy.
You know how everyone always asks “Where are all the good men these days?”
Well, I have a MUCH better question for you fine folks:
Where are all the good women these days??
The same one I’ve been learning over and over and over for years. Life keeps shoving the lesson down my throat. I swallowed it up the first time I encountered it – a convenient reason to keep any and everyone at a distance. To keep from having to deal with all the crap that comes with caring. Why care, when no one appreciates it? Girls don’t appreciate good guys who care; they appreciate guys who grow weed in the storage closet. Obviously.
Recently, I had grown to resent the lesson. But why? What good has that done me of late??
Jack Shit…that’s what.
RELY ON NO ONE. BE AFFECTED BY NO ONE.
It’s so clean, so simple. If only I could buy into it once again.
What is it this time, you ask?? Well, dammit, what is it every time?? I’m sitting here in my Roman apartment at 1 frickin a.m. and I feel like the most retarded and gullible person in the history of the universe.
Whoever invented the whole “hot and cold” thing that girls do to guys…well, I’ve found the person who’s perfected the technique. What the hell is the point to that, anyway? What happened in the girl’s life to make her have a need to play this game?? If you like someone…JUST GO WITH IT. If you don’t like that person, then SO BE IT. And so here I am again, getting sucker punched. Happens every time, it seems.
It’s always something…ain’t it?? They either act differently after 6 months compared to when you first met them, or they throw themselves at you one night, only to pull the exact opposite the following night, or they only want you for sex, or they’re completely psychotic. Pick one. Or two…whatever.
“You’re really lovely, I quite fancy you, Jonathan…now I’m going to wrap my leg around yours and stroke my foot up and down your leg while I’m asking you if you fancy me” somehow turned into “ “.
Yep…you’re seeing that right. Quotation marks with a blank space in between. That’s all I’ve got right now from Sara. Explain that one. And don’t even think about asking me what happened, cause I have no idea. It’s enough to make a man go crazy.
You know how everyone always asks “Where are all the good men these days?”
Well, I have a MUCH better question for you fine folks:
Where are all the good women these days??
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
The Bumbling Idiot
So I’ve been in Rome now for two and a half weeks. It literally seems like two days ago that I got here. I have had a blast. Has the TEFL course been intense?? You better believe it. I’ve learned more grammar here than I could remember from all my English classes in high school and college. And I had a lot of ‘em.
It’s amazing to think that 10 months ago, I was walking thru these same streets in complete awe, trying to soak up every little thing that I could. Now, that urgency has subdued somewhat. I never want to lose it, because my God, every day must be lived to its fullest. But St. Peter’s is about a football field away from my school. Piazza Navona is 90 degrees south, the same distance. I’m living among these things. It is a wonderful feeling.
This was such a good decision. Thank God. Even if I stay here for another month or two, never find a job teaching English, and just completely blow thru my savings…I will never regret it. These moments, these people, these memories…they are what define us. We take them with us for all our days.
Our class is relatively small. Typically there are 20 or 30 students. We have 10, which I like. It’s so much more personal and everyone knows everyone else. We even know each other’s little things and habits. Katie has been financially disowned by her parents. Helen is completely neurotic. Mason is from North Carolina…about an hour from where I am. It’s really damn cool. I wish we could just stay in this class for another month or two.
And obviously, there is a girl. If you had asked me after the first day if there was anyone I’d be interested in, you would have gotten a resounding “no”. So much for basing everything on looks, huh? Her name is Sara, she’s English, and she’s awesome. We’ve spent a lot of time together – she’s going back to England after the course, so we’ll soon be parting ways. She is going back because she has a boyfriend who she's crazy in love with, but it’s okay, because I know she’s not “the One”. I know her well enough to make that judgment, and as I was walking home from school today, God confirmed that for me. My first real conversation with Him in quite a while.
But you know what?? None of that matters when you’re watching her teach three 10-year-old Italian children about animals and clothes and colors in English. Nothing outside of that moment matters. The world freezes and nothing else exists. What an incredible scene. I could have sat in that classroom and watched her for hours. It’s pure. It’s unforgettable. Listening to her – in this rich English accent – tell the children what feathers are, and then catching her eyes for a moment that lasted just a bit longer than most moments do is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
She and I and two other girls went out last Friday. After three glasses of wine, Sara was making confessions.
“You’re really lovely, you know. I quite fancy you, Jonathan.”
“Oh, that’s just the wine talking.”
“No, no it’s not. I do fancy you. Do you fancy me?”
If someone could just tell me what to say to girls…I’d be better off. After all these years, I’m still a bumbling idiot.
“I’m not sure if I want to answer that, Sara.”
“Why not??”
If I only could have said, “Well, because you have a boyfriend back in England. And I’ve been that guy before. The one that steals the girl from her unknowing boyfriend…and sometimes in the end, it’s not much fun being that guy. Because sometimes that guy walks away with nothing. And because if I tell you the truth – that I do, in fact, fancy you – then the flirting that is going on between us may only intensify. And I don’t really trust myself in situations like that.”
But I couldn’t say that. Or rather, I didn’t say it. We spent the rest of the night with our legs wrapped around each other’s underneath the table. I saw the girls home and spent the night at Sara’s, but in a separate bed. It was 1 a.m. and I had no idea how to get home. So I accepted her offer.
And now I wish I had just told her. I want to tell her now.
“Yes. I do fancy you, Sara. Quite a bit.”
It’s amazing to think that 10 months ago, I was walking thru these same streets in complete awe, trying to soak up every little thing that I could. Now, that urgency has subdued somewhat. I never want to lose it, because my God, every day must be lived to its fullest. But St. Peter’s is about a football field away from my school. Piazza Navona is 90 degrees south, the same distance. I’m living among these things. It is a wonderful feeling.
This was such a good decision. Thank God. Even if I stay here for another month or two, never find a job teaching English, and just completely blow thru my savings…I will never regret it. These moments, these people, these memories…they are what define us. We take them with us for all our days.
Our class is relatively small. Typically there are 20 or 30 students. We have 10, which I like. It’s so much more personal and everyone knows everyone else. We even know each other’s little things and habits. Katie has been financially disowned by her parents. Helen is completely neurotic. Mason is from North Carolina…about an hour from where I am. It’s really damn cool. I wish we could just stay in this class for another month or two.
And obviously, there is a girl. If you had asked me after the first day if there was anyone I’d be interested in, you would have gotten a resounding “no”. So much for basing everything on looks, huh? Her name is Sara, she’s English, and she’s awesome. We’ve spent a lot of time together – she’s going back to England after the course, so we’ll soon be parting ways. She is going back because she has a boyfriend who she's crazy in love with, but it’s okay, because I know she’s not “the One”. I know her well enough to make that judgment, and as I was walking home from school today, God confirmed that for me. My first real conversation with Him in quite a while.
But you know what?? None of that matters when you’re watching her teach three 10-year-old Italian children about animals and clothes and colors in English. Nothing outside of that moment matters. The world freezes and nothing else exists. What an incredible scene. I could have sat in that classroom and watched her for hours. It’s pure. It’s unforgettable. Listening to her – in this rich English accent – tell the children what feathers are, and then catching her eyes for a moment that lasted just a bit longer than most moments do is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
She and I and two other girls went out last Friday. After three glasses of wine, Sara was making confessions.
“You’re really lovely, you know. I quite fancy you, Jonathan.”
“Oh, that’s just the wine talking.”
“No, no it’s not. I do fancy you. Do you fancy me?”
If someone could just tell me what to say to girls…I’d be better off. After all these years, I’m still a bumbling idiot.
“I’m not sure if I want to answer that, Sara.”
“Why not??”
If I only could have said, “Well, because you have a boyfriend back in England. And I’ve been that guy before. The one that steals the girl from her unknowing boyfriend…and sometimes in the end, it’s not much fun being that guy. Because sometimes that guy walks away with nothing. And because if I tell you the truth – that I do, in fact, fancy you – then the flirting that is going on between us may only intensify. And I don’t really trust myself in situations like that.”
But I couldn’t say that. Or rather, I didn’t say it. We spent the rest of the night with our legs wrapped around each other’s underneath the table. I saw the girls home and spent the night at Sara’s, but in a separate bed. It was 1 a.m. and I had no idea how to get home. So I accepted her offer.
And now I wish I had just told her. I want to tell her now.
“Yes. I do fancy you, Sara. Quite a bit.”
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