Have you heard the good news?
That's right! My keyboard has stopped it's boycott against Ts, Ys, Ns, and spaces!
(and thank god! The strike was really putting pressure on the system called my daily life and paper writing capabilities)
ANYWAYS
The semester is coming to a close, and you know what, the second half of this semester has been pretty different but overall great
(minus the existential crisis a few weeks ago, yikes)
I spent most of my time in Budapest, and while that sometimes felt slow or uneventful, it seems like the ability to be bored is a sign that Budapest is really starting to feel like home.
Though there's been some pretty neat experiences that ended up being far more significant than I anticipated.
check it:
Thanksgiving. This was my first Thanksgiving not spent with either my family in Montana or my sister in Portland.
Now, Thanksgiving isn't exactly a holiday of much importance to me, (especially after I went to high school and learned about a little thing called imperialism and small pox infested blankets....womp womp)
But I've come to realize that the holiday season itself is significant for me if for no other reason than nostalgia. When I wake up on Thanksgiving or Christmas morning to the smell of baking food in a slightly frenzied atmosphere that is eagerly anticipating the feast ahead, it recreates the strongest memories I have of my childhood, and particularly, of my mom. The ability to feel this way makes me want to cherish and protect these final weeks of every year against the other 46 weeks of reality and my ever deepening adulthood.
Surprisingly, this Thanksgiving was one of the most nostalgic holidays I have had despite being away from family and in a country that barely even eats turkey. I found myself in charge of organizing the dinner (though in reality this meant nothing more than creating a facebook event and badgering people until they told me what they were bringing to eat)
But as plans started to develop for thanksgiving a wierd sensation was coming over me. Suddenly I was searching everywhere for exciting sides, emailing my sister and grandma for recipes, I felt an unnecessary nervousness that there would not be a proper balance of sides vs desserts.....and the quantity..Oh GOD WHAT IF THERE IS NOT ENOUGH FOOD.
- essentially, I was reminded of why I am very much a member of my family-
Now, this realization meant far much more to me than anyone could really know since for most of my life there has been a part of me that sometimes felt disconnected with my family. There has often been holidays that I spent quietly, simply listening or only holding conversation with my relatives under the age of 7. Of course this hasn't always been the case, but this Thanksgiving I felt a real identification with my grandma, my aunts, my sister and above all, my mom who so often hosted holiday dinners and who so enjoyed baking and cooking, all December long it seemed, that she really made the Christmas season what it was; to feel connected with this is a great and comforting feeling.
( Reconciliation with this whole 'growing up' thing through filling in the holiday role that I associate with the adult women in my life: CHECK)
Serbia. While not as sappy of a realization as Thanksgiving provided -my nostalgic childhood memories about the former Yugoslavia seem to be lacking- a funny phenomenon did occur during this fairly spontaneous weekend excursion.
First off, Serbia is pretty neat. Not necessarily my favorite place so far, but eh, at least my fears and exaggerated conceptions of Serbia were mostly extinghushed
( minus the part where my friend and I entered our hostel to the sight of five police officers with guns watching some futball....wait what?)
But the most memorable part of our first night was when we found ourselves, not in a disco, nor a turbo-folk club, but rather.....at a bar-turned-indie party swarming with Serbian hipsters? Awww yeaaa we did.
And you know what? It was one of the strangest sensations because as I rocked my shoulders and tapped my toes to familiar English indie, I suddenly felt intense association with Seattle, and being amongst the Serbian indie scene was such an unbelievable comfort that I couldn't help but feel so happy inside for those several hours we spent there.
(side note: the emphasis of this being that I associate Seattle and SU with the indie scene and hipsters not that I solely get comfort from the presence of hipsters...LAWL)
I honestly can't really say that any uber profound realization about life came from this night, but to feel at home in the middle of the Balkans is quite an amazing, and hilarious, phenomenon. And I suppose in a way it was reassuring that a feeling of home really can transcend the physical place from where it derived.
Enough reflection for one night?
I think so.
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