Well now, life in the US... not too bad. Things have been going good. I have three meals a day waiting for me in the various compartments of my kitchen. That's a welcome addition life. I get to drive my car again. If you know me well, then you know I am obsessive with driving my car. In a way, it is sort of like the Tanto to my Lone Ranger (wait, was Tanto the horse or the Indian? Dammit, I made a reference that I am too young to get...). There is no feeling comparable to the feeling of driving with the windows down, aviators on, screaming/singing with complete disregard of vocal health and the happiness of others. Invigorating.
That being said, I can't wait to get back to Germany. What I miss most (besides my friends there) is the life. I miss the city life, where I can go out on any day of the week and find something awesome to do at 11:00 at night or 8:00 in the morning. Long Island... well... it kind of sucks. Good place to live or raise a family, sure, but let me tell you: it sort of sucks. Things here (at least my area) are so homogeneous (Read: boring). There is very little diversity, in either people (mainly middle class white) or activities. There isn't that sense of internationalism, the bigger picture, that you find in say, New York City or Munich. Ahhh... Munich...
I like the feeling of vulnerability. While in Europe, the fact that I didn't know the language or the people forced me to be responsible. At home, for what it's worth, things are handed to me on a silver-handled platter. Truly, my head could be filled with fresh steamed broccoli and I could survive here because whatever I need is provided. That's nice to know, but doesn't exactly force me to be sharp. Book smarts can be learned with a bit of patience and determination. Street smarts can only be learned through experience. Somebody can't teach you to be self-sufficient, as it were (over-dramatic, but you know what I mean). You have to go out there and do it, and face the consequences of poor decisions. That's what I miss.
And sometimes-- just sometimes-- the poor decisions are the best decisions.
So what happens after my little adventure called "post-grad life"? I can't get the thought out of my head that even though this is totally crazy (running away to Europe to give tours. of all things), it's not quite crazy enough. Even in Europe, things are pretty easy. I can get by. What if I couldn't? I don't know what I am saying. Mom asked me why I sometimes feel like it is my duty to inflict hardship on myself. In true martyr fashion, I sometimes look to make things more difficult than needs be. Masochism (not the kinky kind). Who knows. My feeling is that I want to be tough (I think I just heard the entire MattyReed blog community collectively pee their pants in laughter). Not Charles Bronson or Chuck Norris tough. Unfortunately, my 160 pounds of pure fury couldn't take out Helen Keller on a good day. No, I want to be unfazed by chaotic circumstances; to abhor panic; to have absoluetly nothing frighten me. Huh. Maybe that's it.
Also, to be completely honest (as I always try to do in this blog) I do have romantic notions (read: delusions) of gallantry. Put me on a grand white steed with a flowing red cape and I'm all set. My guess is that these delusions are a product of too many military history books and movies. Often, I think that if I ever had a past life, I am 100 percent positive that I was once a soldier. I know it. I can't explain it, but I know it. I just feel it sometimes. Sometimes I even fantasize about it. I imagine what would happen if there should ever be a "call to action" as it were. Not even military in nature, but just something that called for action in some respect. I am not sure what that means, but I just want to be ready for it. In order to be ready, I need to be "tough", in my own words. In order to be tough, I need to experience hardship. In order to experience hardship, I need to leave my comfortable surroundings.
Well I'll be damned. I think I finally figured it out.
Let me think about that one,