I'm Nobody! Who are You? Are you--Nobody--Too?

I was going to write a senior project on solitude; one year ago, the proposal was completed and had enthusiastic approval from the department.  But then I went to Italy.  I got on the plane full of solitude, and a semester later I returned home full of love for a lot of people.  That summer I tried to return to the project and found that I'd lost touch with the word, tried to remember my connection to it but could not.  I could focus on little except how badly I needed to return to Italy and undergo more magical transformations.  So I finished college early and I bought a ticket.

Here I am.  Funny how thoughts become actions, ain't it?

Solitude and I are becoming reacquainted.  We had become strangers, have been strangers for some time now.  I have my host family here, of course, but solitude can flourish just as well admidst company as it does when one is truly alone.  The point is, this time I don't have a group of friends waiting for me in the kitchen with cheap wine, a pack of cards, and an infinite capacity to make "she said" jokes.  Fun fact: Italians don't really have a word for "lonely"--they've got "da solo" (alone; on my own; only) and that's about as far as they go.  Being da solo in a foreign country is an exercise in full-frontal, no holds barred self-confrontation, and sometimes I would really prefer to turn and run the other way.  There's nowhere to run.  No welcoming arms in which I can enfold myself.  Also this was an intentional decision on my part; I knew it would be difficult.  So I'm meeting some people, I'm exploring the city at a fast clip--haven't quite figured out how to slow down yet--but along the way I'm wondering what makes this real, what makes me real and not a ghost in this town.  My senses drink in all this beauty but don't know what to do with it.  How do I process this experience if I can't elbow someone and say "look"?  The mirage of that sunlit piazza, the easy gleam in that man's eye, the snow falling at midnight--will my memory know what to do with this?  More importantly, what do I, as a person, do with this?  It's the "if a tree falls" question, except I'm the tree; in a sense, I'm the thing that's happening, and I don't know if anyone's around, exactly, or if they will be. 

And if they're not? People or no people, falling or no falling--what does the tree think about all this?

Aaaand it's officially too late for me to make sense anymore.  I will publish this before I fully realize how hypocritical, circular, and/or nonsensical it is.  Good night moon.



Comments

  1. AnonymousFebruary 28, 2013 at 3:57 AM

    Magical transformations just ahead.
    (The only constant is change.)
    Keep writing.
    Please.

    ReplyDelete

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