What have we learned here?

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No matter how hungry you are after yoga and no matter how hard you believe that you could eat an entire box of pasta, stick to one serving. Ugh. This seems like as good a time as any to write, since I’m too full to move. (and since I may not have time to be writing every day once classes start tomorrow. ALTHOUGH I am finding this to be a great way to end my day and gather my thoughts, albeit probably not the most interesting culmination of ideas you could be reading.)

 

It’s still strange for me to look around and fully comprehend that this is my life now. I find myself stopping every now and then to have a “moment.” I don’t want to call it nostalgia, or yearning. It’s more like when you remember a scene from a movie, and for those two hours that you were watching the movie, it was so real. It meant so much. Then, days or weeks or even years later, you remember something about that movie and it’s like you’re there again. You have to remind yourself that it wasn’t real (or in my case, that it was) and you grab tight to that moment, and the feeling that comes with it.  

Or maybe that’s just me…

 Was it really just three weeks ago that I was still living the dub-c life? Everything was so predictable, so comfortable. I knew every week where I would be going and what I would be doing. I had my days planned and my routine mastered.

 

Then, I uprooted myself and began an adventure.

 There are so many little things that catch me off guard. Silly things really. My alarm for the morning still offers a gentle reminder to pick up apples for a lesson plan. I have a need to tell myself that, yes, it is ok to throw away that empty toilet paper roll. (No one will be using it for arts and crafts any time soon.)

Then, there are the bigger things: Coming downstairs, expecting to hear impromptu bass artistry or the voice of Matt Smith assuring me that he is so, so sorry, but finding silence.  Needing some love from a child, and not having one just laying around. Stopping myself from discussing a favorite song or taking a phone call.

I’m sure that I’ll fall into a routine here. I know I’ll get comfortable with my life (I already have to a great extent). I’m not sure when those reflective moments will stop though. Everything is so different. Maybe that’s why I’m not “missing” that life as much as I should be. (Not that I want to be miserable and pining for the past, but…) I never sat on my porch (I didn’t have a porch) and blog, so doing so doesn’t bring up any memories. When I sign a conversation on the metro, I don’t think about the time I did that with friends in West Chester, because the closest we ever came was talking in the car.

I’m trying to get a group of students together for bar trivia. That will bring up some “cinematic déjà vu” (a term I just coined solely for the purpose of this sentence and am not sure I like very much). But, as long as no one mentions alcohol salad, I think it’ll all be ok.

 

No matter how hungry you are after yoga and no matter how hard you believe that you could eat an entire box of pasta, stick to one serving. Ugh. This seems like as good a time as any to write, since I’m too full to move. (and since I may not have time to be writing every day once classes start tomorrow. ALTHOUGH I am finding this to be a great way to end my day and gather my thoughts, albeit probably not the most interesting culmination of ideas you could be reading.)

It’s still strange for me to look around and fully comprehend that this is my life now. I find myself stopping every now and then to have a “moment.” I don’t want to call it nostalgia, or yearning. It’s more like when you remember a scene from a movie, and for those two hours that you were watching the movie, it was so real. It meant so much. Then, days or weeks or even years later, you remember something about that movie and it’s like you’re there again. You have to remind yourself that it wasn’t real (or in my case, that it was) and you grab tight to that moment, and the feeling that comes with it.  

Or maybe that’s just me…

 Was it really just three weeks ago that I was still living the dub-c life? Everything was so predictable, so comfortable. I knew every week where I would be going and what I would be doing. I had my days planned and my routine mastered.

Then, I uprooted myself and began an adventure.

 There are so many little things that catch me off guard. Silly things really. My alarm for the morning still offers a gentle reminder to pick up apples for a lesson plan. I have a need to tell myself that, yes, it is ok to throw away that empty toilet paper roll. (No one will be using it for arts and crafts any time soon.)

Then, there are the bigger things: Coming downstairs, expecting to hear impromptu bass artistry or the voice of Matt Smith assuring me that he is so, so sorry, but finding silence.  Needing some love from a child, and not having one just laying around. Stopping myself from discussing a favorite song or taking a phone call.

I’m sure that I’ll fall into a routine here. I know I’ll get comfortable with my life (I already have to a great extent). I’m not sure when those reflective moments will stop though. Everything is so different. Maybe that’s why I’m not “missing” that life as much as I should be. (Not that I want to be miserable and pining for the past, but…) I never sat on my porch (I didn’t have a porch) and blog, so doing so doesn’t bring up any memories. When I sign a conversation on the metro, I don’t think about the time I did that with friends in West Chester, because the closest we ever came was talking in the car.

I’m trying to get a group of students together for bar trivia. That will bring up some “cinematic déjà vu” (a term I just coined solely for the purpose of this sentence and am not sure I like very much). But, as long as no one mentions alcohol salad, I think it’ll all be ok.

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