Saturday, September 14, 2013

alone and wandering

So I've been here a bit. Acclimated, a little? Last night I fell asleep hugging my pillow. A deep-seated complex in there somewhere, something sinister waiting to erupt? Maybe. Maybe not. It's ok to feel lonely in a new place. Even in a place like Barcelona.

I suppose I shouldn't be writing this stuff in public. Where my classmates can all see. But it's here, so if you do read this, all two of you, come say hi. We'll have a drink. Because what else is DF good for but to direct you to a good drink? I'm not the one you network with, there's no point - I have nothing really to offer except which gin to try next. Deep insecurities about if I even belong here, in this school, in this program? Bien sur. I'm not even speaking the right fucking language. I've only been in this country for a little over 3 weeks, so it will take some time. I'm trying. But, if I may, I give a jackshit about how others perceive me. A bad quality to have as an MBA candidate? Sure, but I is what is.

There was a class event tonight. Well, unofficial class event at a bar, before heading to a club. I had a few drinks, talked to some familiar faces, met some new ones. All good. And then we step into what was supposedly a swanky joint here and all I wanted to do was fuck on home, put some bluegrass on, and sing of death and glory. Why is that. Social fatigue after 3 weeks? Yes. But also because try as I might, I can't compromise myself, my true self. I've come to know some of my classmates, and I like a lot of them - a lot of them. But I refuse to believe that clubbing is the only way to be social. Jamais, jamais, jamais. Never will I ever be comfortable in that situation, and I'm too old, too tired to be pressured into it, for the sake of the experience.

I've met so many people in my short time here, more people than I've ever met in my life. A diverse, eclectic group that's already confirmed that coming here was the right decision. Yet why do I feel like I'm drifting towards the same old, same old? I'm having issues with cultural identity. What is it? Am I Chinese? Am I Canadian? I was called a banana last night. Non-maliciously, and she apologized profusely afterwards - probably a bit overboard as well. But it does get one thinking. In a very international setting, we simply are our nationalities. So what about immigrants? We do represent a very unique segment here, hence the confusion. I'm as much a Canadian as a Chinese person. Is it too much to be thought of as both?

The whole point of coming out here was to do something different. Yet routine is so familiar, so comfortable. It's so easy getting back to the same patterns of how I view people, how I interact. A change is definitely what I need, but it seems more and more obvious to me that changing demeanours is just as importantly a conscious decision. It's been tough, and I have to keep reminding myself. I'm a deeply, deeply emotional person, and I'm not always the most polite, the most diplomatic. But I'm honest and I do try to always be true to what I'm feeling. We let things fall as they may. If people like you for you, fantastic. If not, I'm too stubborn to try to change their mind. We are what we are. Why is it that I feel drawn towards certain people, why I feel like I naturally get along? It's a misguided way of approaching this whole thing, I think now. We have to make a distinction. So many people are describing each other as friends. And I can't do that, because I feel like if I do so, I'm insulting my true friends. My true loved ones, the people who unconditionally have my back and best interests at heart. I'm a friendly and open person, but it takes a long, long time before I can trust someone enough to consider them a friend. That's simply how DF is. And if I can't be myself here, then it's not the right place to be. We'll figure out soon enough.

Vale chicos. I'm a little drunk, I'm a little tired, and it's time for bed. Late, and listening to Suzanne Cox sing I am weary is not improving my mood. Good night my friends, and we'll talk tomorrow. Park Guell for me, and as I'm best, I'll be going alone. It's good to be alone. Pillows make great bed-mates - and unlike some women, they're less dangerous too.


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