I am not worthy of the brownie, I know, but…
I find myself just staring at the keys trying to wrap my head around what it is like to live abroad. For anyone who has had the pleasure, and by pleasure I mean experience – which sometimes is not a pleasure, you know what I mean, right?
In so many ways I feel it to be equal parts exciting and boring, incredibly enriching and difficult, hilarious and not f**cking funny what so ever (I just want the server to know I don’t want cheese on my sandwich, that’s it!).
In many ways I feel as though I am on vacation, or I should be treating my time here as such. Taking in all the sights, gaining five kilos because the croissants are just that good, and getting all cultured at the many art museums. And yet in many ways I am living the exact same life you are living at home, just without the comforts of home.
And yes – poor, poor Pinoe. It must be so hard to be paid to do something that I love and live abroad and ugly ol’ France and learn the dull language of love. I get it. I am lucky. And I am having an experience many wouldn’t even dare to dream of.
But I am also just a boy, standing in front of a girl…wait…what?! In many ways my experience reminds me of that scene in Notting Hill where everyone around the table has to tell their sob story in hopes that it will be pathetic and sad enough to be worthy of the ultimate prize – the last brownie. Julia Roberts (god I love her) starts on about her nose and her chin and how hard it must be to be an actress earning millions and being all world famous. And for a minute you fall for it. You can sympathize with her, for a fleeting moment, in the loneliness of an empty room at the Four Seasons and the pressures of having a perfect face.
But then sister to the left is in a wheelchair forever and then reality hits.
That’s kind of how I feel sometimes. Ridiculous I know, because my complaints are those of the first world, but I miss home. And sometimes that is hard to say for fear of feeling ungrateful or complaining about this life that I live. But I do. And it can be lonely and boring – a lot.
Sometimes I just want to make dinner and cuddle on the coach and watch football on Sundays and eat Mexican food and go to IN and OUT Burger and bicker with my sister. Sometimes I just want that.
And in the end I know I am not worthy of the brownie in any way, shape or form.
But like dear Miss Julia, I sometimes want to be entertained with the idea that just for a second…I am.