Fair enough.

Yesterday marked the three week anniversary of me being back where I grew up, back "home" which is strangely somehow still home even as it no longer much resembles that which I once knew.

It's been a bit surreal, to be honest. I've hung out with people I haven't seen since highschool; visiting is someone I met when she was 13 and is now turning into a woman and would be driving if she were American. My brother is gone and moved out, out in the Big Scary Real World with a Real Job. Which he doesn't like, but what gives. I guess I am used to a long-distance relationship, at least with him, as we haven't seen each other for more than 4 weeks a year for the past three or four years. And speaking of long-distance relationships, even though I've never wanted one, I've got one with the boyfriend I left behind in Germany. Figuring out how to be a plural through email and skype is hard, and frustrating, and the best we can do right now.

I didn't want to leave Germany; I've made no secret of it but it is not due to not wanting to "go home", but rather a desire not to leave the friends that had become my family in Germany. The first week was pretty hard for me, and I had another taste of the depression I only very seldom feel, which is therefore always to some extent unexplored territority. My mood has improved with time and the support of my long-suffering family.

My laptop and I have had a deep and personal relationship these past weeks. Though I do (did) have two very large papers to write (ca 25 pages, 1 1/5 pt spaced, in German) and on which I have been working furiously, I won't deny using my computer and my drive to work as a way to a) shut out the world and b) have space of my own. I'm not used to living in a family, even mine, and I think the opposite is true--that my parents aren't quite as used to having kids around as they were when we all lived there. I'm not used to always having people around, to eating together all the time, to people coming and chatting, etc. Family dynamics are never simple, and four discreet adults living in one space leads to issues of various natures.

Running into old acquaintences is difficult for me, because with every meeting I realize that I have almost nothing more in common with them. I might as well be speaking German for all they understand; our conversations tend to fizzle out after
"hi, how are you?" "Fine," "how was Germany?" "Germany was great; how's school?" "Oh, just fine". Superficial of course, and it can't be any other way, but my life seems to be so much outside their frame of reference that I find it difficult. Not that these people don't still care about me, or what happens to me--but I almost feel as if I am better in the 3rd person, as a story my parents are relating to someone rather than something I am telling someone. My old friends are all still lovely people, and we still get along. Sometimes our conversations dwell in the past, in the only area we may still have in common, though I am learning to like and love them for the people they have become and not just the people they were. I cannot change the fact, however, that many of my closest friends here have moved on.

Our houseguest, my mother and old friends have got me out of the house, sometimes against strong resistance on my part. That is the sign that made me realize I'm not always doing as well as I appear to--it doesn't bother me to sit inside on a gorgeous day and work on the computer. I usually view that either as a punishment or to be untertaken only in dire need. I'm not itching to get out; the part of me that was immersed in nature and outdoors is the part of me sitting quietly in the corner, trying to pull herself together, at least for others' sake. But my second paper is coming along and nearing its conclusion, leaving me with no excuse to bury myself in work. And I know I will be okay with time; my buoyant personality and almost perpetual optimism and cheerfulness has not completely deserted me, and as I immerse myself in what will become my life I will have friends and activites that don't leave me feeling quite so stranded.

I've got a week of break, five pages and revisions on the paper to go, and a lot of stuff to take care of remaining. My semester will be full; aside my heavy courseload I will be applying for scholarships, grad schools and internships in three or four countries and in at least two languages. I am determined to graduate in May and move back to Europe, though I don't know where and only slightly know how. And the prospect, as exciting as it is, is also scary. This time, I am not intending to go for anther year and come back, I am going to stay. Which means I have to string along studies and jobs and internships, working as a foreigner under visa restrictions, and making it on my own. My parents' extensive contribution to my education will conclude with my first degree, leaving me to make the life for myself that I want. I may be dependant on friends where I would otherwise be depenant on family, and I don't have it all figured out. Still, I relish the challenge, and the first one is getting there.