Feelin' Good

You know what's funny??

Well, perhaps not funny. Maybe "ironic" is the most accurate choice here.

What's ironic is how some things can be both really awesome and complete torture at the same time. As if this thing, or person, or whatever, has some sort of dual personality. Think about it - is there anything in your life that you love and dread simultaneously?

I have this student. Valeria. Don't say it how you would say it in English. Say it as if you were speaking a Romance language. Roll the "r". A little more emphasis on the "e". Perfect.

She's a Level 1 English student. Which is to say that she's not very advanced. She can form basic structures and converse if the other person uses a limited vocabulary and speaks slowly. She's a university student; whenever she needs to think about something, or look something up, she looks at me and says "Stop" - even if I'm not saying anything. She's hilarious. I have students from all across the spectrum - she is by far my favorite.

I know what you're thinking and you don't need to say anything. Sure, I've got this whole "just go for it" ideology built up here, but that ain't gonna fly in this situation. She's my student and nothing will happen while that holds true.

But this isn't about that. It's probably common opinion that I'm just a big ol' romantic who loves falling in love. Maybe. Or maybe I'm someone who just loves appreciating the things that should be appreciated.

Like the way one of Valeria's front teeth sticks out a little more than the other. Or the way Tara's hair looks like a big bundle of golden scrunchy-thingies when she pulls it back in a ponytail. Or the way Nicole used to kiss me right under my eye, on my cheekbone.

I feel good right now. I felt good riding the train back from work today. I felt proud of myself.

I think I'm gonna like it here.

Some days, I feel like my insides are about to burst.

Even here, while I'm living in this most unbelievable of places, The Eternal City. Even here, something is missing. I don't feel it all of the time. More often than not, everything is right, content.

But in those all-too-quiet of moments, the rustling is there. I can feel it, and I know it well. I feel it now - it's what is driving this post.

I can't really explain it. It's almost as if, on a very deep and sub-conscious level, I know that there is simply much more that I have to do. That my destiny is out there, waiting for me, but waiting rather impatiently. And it seems like my destiny knows that I'm here, and that I know my destiny is there. And that we both know what the other knows.

I'm not sure that I'm ready. I'm not sure that I'm ready for anything, right now. I just do not know.

You wanna hear a heartbreakingly beautiful song??

Check out James Blunt's "Goodbye My Lover"

And that's no exaggeration - it is beautiful - so beautiful that my heart aches when I hear it. Yet I can't listen to it enough.

It's interesting to realize who you think about when you hear it. Maybe a wife or a husband. Maybe a boyfriend. Maybe a lost love. Maybe an Ex.

I know who I think about.

It must mean something significant...thinking of a certain person when you hear a song like that. One of the verses is "I'd be the father of your child".

Guys - how many women would you say that to? How many of the women throughout your entire life would you say those words to?

Three?
One?
None??

I'm not sure what my answer would be, honestly. Some days it might be None. Some days...it might actually be Three.

Anyway...enough of this. Go find the song. Listen to it. Tell me what you think.

(This is right up your alley, Morbid)

We Never Know

[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…

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?

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.

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 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.”

I have no idea what I've gotten myself into, but a big "Thank You" goes out to all of you that have given support and words of wisdom.

I leave Thursday at 2:20 p.m. and I honestly don't know what to do.

There is a massive struggle going on inside this mind and body of mine. It's like one of those huge battle scenes in Braveheart or Gladiator - the mass of men from opposite sides of the field rush towards each other, colliding in one big wave at the center.

"Don't go...back out. Sure, you're out eight hundred bucks, but it's a helluva lot safer than going over there. You're crazy for thinking this will work. You can't do it - you don't have what it takes."

"Man, this is gonna be the best. You're gonna have a load of fun and you're doing something that you'll likely never be able to do again. Everyone who knows you're doing this has expressed their desire to do something similar - how cool it is - and how much they admire you for doing it. Take advantage. You can do it - you have what it takes."

The dialogue just keeps getting louder and louder. Deafening, almost.

I'm cutting internet service off tomorrow, so no more posts. Maybe for a while. But I'll be back...somewhere on the opposite end of this.

Thank You, again.

Why?

I sit alone in a room at night. Trying to divert my attention from the reality that is set in front of me. Part of it I have created for myself. Part of it, I have not.

The diversions do not last. I think about the things that I am leaving behind. I think of the things that I WISH I was leaving behind. And of the things that I wish I did not have to leave behind.

I sometimes wonder how certain people would feel if I died. What would be the lasting impression? What would it mean to them?

Would they be sad? Devastated? Relieved? Unconcerned??

In some ways, I feel like I HAVE to move away from here - so that when I come back, I can move forward from here.

I haven't had an Honest-to-God serious relationship with a girl since Nicole.

Abby - oh, Abby ended up not being in my life for a girlfriend role. She had a different part to play.
Jaime - well, that was just one very messy scenario.
Jenn - sure, we dated for a while, but there was nothing there. It was a relationship born out of convenience.
Kasha - see above.
Amanda - she and I had a whirlwind of a romance last summer. What my dad called serendipity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. But it became clear to us both that it was not meant to be.

Maybe I'm waiting for her to come back to me. I honestly do not know anymore. I know that it's been increasingly difficult for me to show interest, at least initially, in a girl. It's almost as if I have to fight my instincts.

Maybe she played a part in my decision to leave. I honestly don't know that either. I haven't seen her in over a year and a half. I haven't heard her voice in almost that long. We talk over IM every now and then. But what is that? Is that real?

You would think her face would have vanished from my mind's eye. Far from it.

She has a different life now. A life to plan and work for and LIVE.

I do not have a place in it any longer.

Perhaps that is why I am leaving…

The Day is in 2 weeks.


Buyer's Remorse is setting in.

I'm freakin out.

A Choice

Rome Colosseum and Arch of Constantine, originally uploaded by uncsuperman.

For some time now, I have been frozen by the grip of Indecision. Unsure of what to do, where to go, and what to make of my life.

Perhaps this is not the right decision. Perhaps this path will be short-lived. Who knows? Until you try?

But come late March, I will be off to Rome. I will embark on a path and become certified to teach English as a Foreign Language. Ever since my Spring Break trip there during junior year in high school, I have been in love with Italy. My journey this past summer only reaffirmed what I already felt.

Her glory. Her beauty. Her mystique.

Part of me wants to live there and experience her culture. I want to finally learn the Italian language. I want to immerse myself in the art and architecture and deep history of that place.

Part of me wants to teach. I want to influence young lives in the best way that I can and I want the freedoms that come with being a teacher. I want to coach. This will give me an avenue into that.

And part of me feels like there is nothing left for me here right now. I feel alone - standing against the horizon, with the weight of love, disappointment, loss and beauty pressing down on my shoulders.

Thomas Wolfe said that you can never go home again. Even though I love his writing, and even though he’s a fellow North Carolina graduate, I tend to disagree with him on that.

I think you can go home again. And I think that home can be any number of places. My heart loves this place that I am in right now – the place I grew up in. It loves Chapel Hill just as passionately.

But I think it may be time for another stage to begin. I don’t want to leave my family. My friends. Tara or Nicole. Or my little niece, Victoria. I don’t want to miss Tar Heel basketball. I would love to be in Chapel Hill with all my friends and live it up.

However, sometimes, you just have a feeling.

I may stay for 3 months. I may stay for 3 years. I do not know where the path turns next. In truth, I am terrified. You could say that I have something of a fear of commitment. I had serious problems signing the lease to the townhouse that me and 6 of my college boys stayed in our senior year.

So, to say that I struggled with putting the $500 deposit down for this course would be an understatement. But several weeks ago I finally heard from a mutual friend who did this same thing and recommended this particular company. And the last few weeks at church, the messages have been about seizing the day, trusting in the Father, and asking yourself the right questions.

Do not ask “how?” “How?” is a question for skeptics. A question for the timid. I will not be timid. “How?” is God’s domain. That’s the question for him to answer.

Rather, ask yourself “What?” As in what do you want? What will make you come alive? What is it that your heart cries out for? That is our domain.

I want to live in Italy. Among the glory of Rome, the beautiful structures, the undeniable history, the romance.

I want to act. Not for the fame or the money. Actually, I think I’d rather dislike the fame. But stepping into and out of different situations, people, and places is quite a bit of fun. I want to explore different stories – I want to be part of them. Oh, how I love it.

So my life is set to change dramatically very soon. I know a few people who will be in that part of the world. Perhaps our paths will cross. Perhaps not.

This should be interesting.