Life in Ink and Footsteps

It is deeply fascinating to me how our memories work. How can we forget so much? How moments that felt deeply moving, life-altering, and just plain cool, fun, important, memorable, etc., just disappear? I know it’s the biggest cliché ever. We all forget things, and it’s natural for our brains to let go of some things—not everything proves to be important in the long term, we all move on, and bla bla bla. I know, I am not stupid. But it always catches me off guard when I get into reading my old journals. Which, in all honesty, I don’t do, because I sounded really dumb. Why? Because I was dumb. I was young, so of course I was. But it’s just cringey to go through it. So to actually read the diary and pay attention to it, to realize how much I forgot and grew, is both frightening and fascinating. And it does make me proud of myself. It also makes me grateful. Grateful that I wrote it back then, that I have a way of reminding myself how much happened and what I went through. And grateful that I am still writing my diaries. In a different way I did back then, but I do. It is important since we did, do, and will forget so much. And you know what? It is never too late to start.

And what did I forget, you ask? For example, the fact that I was going to the local library for English classes. Like what? When? I did? Zero recollection of that. I did mention last time that I forgot the guided tour in NYC; that should have been a warning sign that it would only get worse from there. And trust me, it will. But to stop being mopey and sentimental, let’s talk about the things I do remember. Or pretend to, because I do have pictures.

I met other au pairs from my area. The program I went with had great support, and it was something I deeply appreciated, even if I later got too cool for the monthly mandatory meetings because I already had friends and was comfortable with my life there. But in the beginning? These meetings with the local “mother hen” and all the au pairs were grateful moments. Awkward, but helpful. That is how I met F. and H. from the Netherlands. They were super friendly, lived close to me, and were just as lost as I was. We spent quite a few weekend afternoons together, doing little local trips. Sagamore Hill, for example, is one that I truly remember and hold close to my heart. The sun was shining and warm, and autumn was in the air. I was off and could relax. We walked down the hill to the little hidden beach and looked at the water. I am ignoring the fact that the friendly Dutch girls spoke in their native language most of the time and were kind of getting on my nerves. But hey, I was lonely as fuck, and some slightly fake companionship was better than being completely alone and sitting on my ass in my little room. Wait, I said I’d stop being mopey, didn’t I? Ehm, well. I did try.

Okay, I’ll try again. I saw more wonderful places during the first few weekends. Like Jones Beach, which became my all-time favorite, no matter the season. Driving around the long, wide road, my windows rolled down, breathing in the humid, salty air, the wind messing with my hair. Oh, look, that rhymed. Anyway. Watching the ocean and listening to music in the car. As a person from a country that doesn’t have any access to a large body of water, the fact that I lived within a 20-minute drive from the ocean was mind-boggling. And I fell in love with it. I would take the Meadowbrook Pkwy, then continue the whole length of Ocean Pkwy to the eastern point and Robert Moses Park with that cute little lighthouse. On my way back, I would go over the bridge up to the north shore of Long Island and back to my temporary home. Damn. Still kind of mopey and sentimental. I will seriously have to play some upbeat music next time I write these posts. I blame the Twilight-inspired playlist.

Oh, okay, there is one non-depressing thing. Kind of. Okay, it was slightly depressing. Oh, shut up; it is what it is with this one. I talked with HIM, because of course, I did. I was very upset about his selfish behavior cough as if a married dude two decades my senior could have been different after I selfishly chose my future and experiences instead of being at his beck and call cough. So I made a mental note to stay for the whole year. It might not sound like a big deal, being written like this. But it was. It is a moment I can physically recall. Sitting in the room after our Skype call ended and thinking to myself: “I need to do this, this is my life and my future. And I really, really fucking want it.” My whole demeanor toward this experience, life, routine, troubles etc., switched completely at that moment.

So what did I do? I went to CVS and bought a vibrator. I mean, I did just decide to stay a whole year for real. Also, why do they sell vibrators at CVS? Can somebody explain that to me?

What is the best song on my list for this?
Dirty Paws – Of Monsters And Men