A short list of things I wasn’t expecting to miss:
1. The Internet. More specifically, the Wi-Fi. And even more specifically: the sense of constant connection, which is for some reason so reassuring. While the student house I stay in provided an ethernet cable, the connection has yet to feel constant. Opening a browser is a gamble each time. Sure, the symbol on my tool bar is full, but that is only occasionally an actual representation of the signal.
“Why don’t you just get a router and guarantee a signal,” you’re probably asking yourself. You aren’t? Oh, well, okay.
I haven’t bought a router yet - I’m writing this on the second week of life here. (Publication time is obviously in the air, but I have it for the moment.) Each time I contemplate the minor purchase that would alter my daily habits, I feel this sense of guilt for pining after the world wide web. Then I pick up my novel and read a bit. Realizing that it’s almost over and it’s the second of the books I brought, I put it down and reflect. Then I wish it wasn’t raining and that I didn’t have a sore throat so that I could go out and explore my new city (and forget about my misconnections.) Then I think about what’s happening on my favorite photography sites, and of course, what the people of Facebook are discussing.
The reason I wasn’t expecting to miss the Internet is two fold. Firstly, I wasn’t anticipating such problems with the accessibility. And secondly, I didn’t think I would feel the necessity of a connection - who wants to spend all of their time in a new country on the computer?! Not all of my time, but I now see that I need it. How else can I check my teacher’s emails, chat with Mom and Dad via iMessage or keep up with all of Knoxville’s conservative lawmakers?
So yes, I confess, I miss the Internet.
2. Singing. No aspect of my American life required me to sing, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t doing it. I blame the increase of melodies in the last three months on Tori. If you haven’t yet heard that lady sing, hunt her down and request a rendition. The woman knows words to songs I haven’t heard in years. Knowing that I could never match her repertoire of lyrics, I took to incorporating diddies into conversation - just little things I was making up on the spot. I probably annoyed some of you. I know. Who really wants someone to sing to them when all the question requires is a simple yes or no? (I apologize if I ever really did frustrate you.) Maybe I’ll eventually feel comfortable enough with the people around me to risk singing, but for now I’ll remain a little reserved.
But it isn’t the simple, stupid melodious retorts I’m missing. I miss singing in the car. Driving anywhere alone meant I was singing to some CD. Please don’t take this repeated statement of my singing as a sign of boasting. I’ve never won a talent competition, and I was kicked out of high school choir. I just like singing, loudly, and I’m sure a lot of you can agree with me on this. I don’t have a car here, so there’s no safe place for me to really belt it out. I feel weird just humming on my bike ride to school - apprehensive that someone will assume I’m a loon. (I’ve not noticed anyone else singing on their bikes, so for now I stick to humming.)
I could sing in my room, but there’s also another layer to this. Eliza told me to find new music so that I would be reminded of my adventure later on in life when I heard the song again. Most of the playlists I have synced to Spotify are new songs I found in January, so I’m still learning the words (which I will because I can’t access any other music, haha.)
3. The yellow couch on the front porch of the home I won’t live in again. That sounds a bit melodramatic, I know. It’s a simple couch, but it’s been there for at least three years. It’s seen a lot of action; I’m sure it’s full of secrets. The material is scratchy, it’s not protected from the weather, but I always found it comforting.
I know that if it’s still there when I return, I will be invited to sit on it whenever I like, but it won’t be “my couch on my front porch.” I’m returning to the world of campus living and the R.A. life for my final year of university. (The Europeans refer to college as university, and I like it, so I’m using it. Do I sound posh? haha.) I already miss that house - full of people on a regular basis. People I cherish, who are quick with a joke and a hug, but only if you really need it. I miss the dark interior, the sketchy “garage” and the open basement doorway. Hmm, I wonder if they got that door put back.
I miss the couch with its fantastic sunsets and gospel music on Sundays. And I miss the house. And the people in it (but I knew I would miss them.)
4. Slip-on shoes. I opted to only bring boots/boot-like shoes in anticipation of the rainy weather. Problem is, it’s not always raining here and three pairs of shoes seriously limit your outfit options. I have slippers for walking around the house, sandals for the shower, but I really want some informal shoes for walking down the street (and adding “flair” to my wardrobe, haha.)
I’ll buy some shoes, just like my father suggested. I just wasn’t expecting to wish I had more pairs of shoes.
Things I was expecting to miss but won’t because I have them here:
1. Guacamole. I have access to avocados, cilantro, garlic, limes AND TORTILLA CHIPS. I found those in the market the other day, and they ain’t expensive. It’s no Mexican restaurant with unlimited chips and salsa, but homemade will do.
Speaking of Mexican restaurants, I realized the route to school has a place called Taco Mundo on it. I’ll letcha know how it is.
2. Things to do on the weekend. I was perfectly prepared to spend a lot of time by myself. Okay, no, I was not prepared for that. When I realized my original housing option would have left me alone an awful lot, I made arrangements to relocate. Now I have the option to retreat to my room, but with 30 people in this “house,” there is always something happening.
Hans, who is about 25, described it perfectly: the epitome of student housing is coming home on a Tuesday night and finding the kitchen table covered in empty beer cans.
If they drink beer on school nights, you know they’re probably drinking beer on the weekends. I think there’s actually a birthday party happening in the kitchen right now. It sounded like it was slowly getting started about an hour ago.
On that note, I’m finishing this collection of thoughts.
xoxo//hc
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