Settled with being unsettled but also not settled with being unsettled

“Good, for the most part. It feels nice to be back in the sense that I feel like I still have a lot that I need to accomplish here, but I also feel like I’m having a slight existential crisis. like I feel like my life here isn’t real, like it’s just this bubble of a life that I live floating about away from the real world.” These were my exact words when a friend asked me how it felt to be back in Paris and jet lag was kicking my ass, (It’s still kicking my ass.) so 2am thoughts became real, real quick.

I also had someone ask me the following question while I was home in the States: “If you absolutely had to choose right now between living in the United States and living in Europe permanently forever, which would you choose? If money wasn’t an issue?” I cannot properly express to you the amount of anxiety that I experienced because of this question. Even though I said Europe, the truth is, I have no fucking clue. I really, truly don’t.

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Home for the holidays: Paris has grown to have a place in my heart

“What does it feel like to be home?”

“You know, to be honest, it’s weird but also not weird at the same time. It’s like I never left…but also it is.”

I’m home for the holidays, and I feel like I kind of have two lives but also one life. Have you ever felt that feeling? Is it possible to feel two things at once?

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Contemplate death and feel a stronger sense of life: an afternoon spent in Auvers-sur-Oise

 

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I’ve always had a great interest in tortured artists. I’m not entirely sure why, but I feel that it has something to do with the fact that there’s a part of me that feels understood by them, the part of me that feels a little lost and always pondering life’s deepest and darkest questions. I find beauty in the way that they bring light to pain, beauty because it’s a natural part of being human and living life. Tortured artists help us to remember that our pain can be used to create beauty.

I’ve always felt intrigued by the works of Vincent Van Gogh, most notably his Starry Night (Yes, I know. I’m completely cliché) and his works displaying the everyday life, painting those everyday moments the way they actually appear, sometimes dreary and sad, the reality of how life can be. It’s not all sunshine and butterflies all of the time (though I like it equally when it is).

That’s why when I learned not only about the beauty of the small village of Auvers-sur-Oise but also about Vincent Van Gogh’s small stay there before his untimely death, I was immediately intrigued and put it on my list of places to go during my Toussaint break.

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Somewhere in the middle: contemplating my expatriation with Thanksgiving and such

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I must admit that my lack of consistency on this blog derives mostly from the fact that I’ve become quite unsure about the direction that I want this blog to go in. I love writing, and I love telling my story, especially in regards to traveling and living as an expat. However, I eventually want it to be something more than that, more solidified. So, it thus why writing on here has been much more sporadic than in the past.

Regardless of that, however, I feel it necessary to express my thoughts and feelings on my current situation.

The truth about my life in Paris is that it’s both difficult and easy.

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