good morning, my dear friends,
i have come up with a term which i am enjoying thinking about at this very moment in time: curated memories. being immersed in the world of sociology, history and memory studies for the past four months, the idea of memory as a construct is not new. in many cases, we remember what we choose to remember in the ways that best suit the narrative that we create for ourselves and each other. i've been thinking about art and performance as a platform for the curated memory: the selection of certain events and stories to be presented in a way that emphasizes different characters and aspects - distorting reality in some ways, and making it more truthful (whatever that means) in others. while i don't mean to correlate this blog to any type of artistic outlet, this blog post aims to highlight the past three weeks in ways that will allow future me (and you should you randomly look at this blog in 10 years) to acknowledge some of the difficulties that have arisen this month -- to think about my time here in a more honest and holistic, rather than idyllic or romanticized fashion. here it goes....
january was a hard month for me. the most difficult in recent memory, actually. with so much anticipation about the future and so much work to be done in the present, i found it difficult to focus. being away from my friends and family felt more acute somehow, once routines began again and we all delved back into work and daily life. i've felt distanced by others and i've simultaneously been pushing away and isolating myself. research has been going well, progress is being made, and yet it still feels fuzzy and abstract. my plans for my life post-france are anything but solidified, and the desires of wanting to control my future are impeding some of my experiences in the present.
i don't know, perhaps you were one of the many people who woke up on january 6th (the first monday of 2014) and were dreading it with all your might. the idea of going back to school or work, dieting, having to "make good" on all of those new year's resolutions you drunkenly scribbled on a cocktail napkin at 11:45pm on dec 31 at the urging of your NYE date whom you wanted to please, was daunting and both under- and over-whelming at the same time. maybe you were the complete opposite and sprung out of bed that monday excited about the potential that this new year contains, ready and thirsty for the next steps. and then, there were people like me - those who found themselves in between mourning a terrific year, meaningful holidays, and wonderful experiences now in the past. and yet, you know, all the while, that the world will be just as good, if not better in the upcoming months as long as we acknowledge and take ownership of our role in making it great.
i am not one to create new year's resolutions. i am one to plan and work and plan and work and plan and achieve what i set out to achieve. the fact that my future is so unclear is not unusual for someone of my age and place in life; however, it's an uncomfortable and vulnerable place. it's interesting, something that i've noticed as a cultural difference between france and the united states takes place with a primary interaction with someone. in the states, one usually asks within the first two minutes, "so, what do you do?" - here, that's not the case. in conversation with one of my friends here, she reminded me that it's not what you do -- it's how you do it with, with whom, and for what reasons. as much of my identity to this point has been linked to academics and academic success, it's scary to think that my life will turn onto a path with which i am unfamiliar and, very likely, unequipped. i guess that's the point though, right? we become familiar and we adapt.
so, with the first twelfth of 2014 completed, i vow here in front of you all that february will be different and with a renewed spirit of exploration and creativity and with meaningful and pure intentions. the halfway point of my journey here in strasbourg was just recently celebrated and it's exciting to think that, two years ago, i wrote on this very blog that i wanted to come back to france after graduation. although i had envisioned my return and living abroad, the past four months have brought me into a world that i couldn't have imagined and creating the environment to continue to thrive here is on me, and me alone.
in thinking about the narratives that we choose to create and, equally importantly, those which we choose to share and present to each other, i thank you most humbly for holding me accountable. i received a letter the other day from an old friend, and in it she enclosed a picture that i drew for her about eleven years ago. it was the two of us in front of the eiffel tower and the caption said, in my fifth-grade handwriting, "send in 2014 - just in case we get lost." aside from being shocked and moved that she kept it, i couldn't help but smile at the poignancy of this smudged little note. january was a moment of feeling lost in the fog -- some moments of clarity and moments of obstruction -- and it's comforting knowing that there's something or someone(s) to be there once the fog clears.
i will update with adventures in paris and new york later this month. until then, i am sending you all my love,
doria
