Angers, France. 01-28-2014
Circles puzzle me. And I can’t help but think about a certain ex-someone every time circles come to mind. Because they believed in circles, or rather that life moved, progressed, according to circles. And I thought at the time that this was crap, because it seemed to me like circles never really progressed but just moved as an endless cycle of the same. But the more I visit the idea, or the mention of circles visits me, I start to see that maybe circles are a more accurate representation of time than are lines.
We talk about circles of friends, circles of people, not lines of people, because circles imply a connectedness that a line lacks. Perhaps an intersection of lines? But this still lacks a wholeness that the interconnectedness of people portrayed through or by the circle more accurately represents.
The circle is a journey in which you move only to return to the same point…but to return to this point comes after the passing of time – after things have happened. So perhaps, contrary to my earlier opinion, the circle can build and progress, and in a way more accurately and truly than the line.
I want lines. Because lines are clear and clean and have a clear progression of time which leaves past in the past. I like the safety of distance in time – of time as natural fixer and healer. But it’s hard to ignore that even with miles of time, things that you hope would be gone, would be over, or would have changed…are still there. Still here. Oh but for a way to harness and control perspective, to understand its ways and to seize it. Space can do much, but sometimes it’s not enough.
To step back or step in to now: I’ve been in France for a week and five days. It already feels like so much has happened, perhaps because of the comfort I feel with new friends and international students. Outside of that though, I’ve felt myself an alien and am aware of a desire to fit in, or blend in, to my surroundings. I’m so shy to speak the language because I feel like I don’t know enough or will say something dumb. I do feel this going away a bit, though slowly. I just need to be myself and be comfortable being myself, and not so caught up with trying to blend in culturally. But god, French people like to stare! Either that, or they ignore you entirely.
It’s just the beginning and yet, each day is important and new and exciting. Because I only have my classes once a week, I feel like I should be getting all this stuff done – a compulsion resultant of my work and school schedules back home. However, with less of my time segmented and put into blocks, the openness allows me to enjoy and feel each day more: each day counts and is full of opportunity.