Not in Kansas anymore

There reaches a point in every blogger's life where one thinks, "Fuck! Where do I even begin." Yeah, I'm there. So, I will begin again by really not beginning at all.

There are these fragrances that I love back in the states from a company called Demeter. They are sort of wacky and offbeat, but there's usually at least one that people are really drawn to. Having a conversation with a close friend today about these (don't ask, I just have strange conversations), I looked them up online and was surprised what they considered to be "pick me up" scents. Things like: funeral home, glue, condensed milk, poison ivy and holy water make me think that people really are very screwed up (that and there are WAY too many alcohol and food smells - don't alcoholics and overeaters already smell like that?). The scents I'm drawn to aren't that typical either: laundromat, tomato, thunderstorm, paperback and crust of bread. The scents you find intriguing are most likely random as well (feel free to share).

I just realize time and again that our senses all have their own memories and can bring old feelings back just by being excited. I remember hearing the footsteps of coworkers before I saw them every morning, the smell of the soap a friend used, the heat of my mom's kitchen, the tilt of the seat in my car. That's one thing that you never get used to when living abroad - the lack of bumping into your old senses, of being taken to a time and place that was so enveloping you feel you are back there instantly. There are new sounds for sure: the laughter of friends, the smell of the veggie market, the sudden drop in temperature you feel when entering a blok apartment building, but their presence without the historical reminders makes for some serious reality doubting. It's like being a baby - when people walk out of the room they really do disappear to you, there's no concept of what they are doing when not within the senses. You have no history comprehending this place and these people. What it all is and means seems so questionable. So very foreign. So isolating.

When I think about landing in the States I think about seeing loving faces, hugging the people I miss so much. But I also think about that moment. The moment where you step out of the airport and are hit by the local temperature and smells. When I suddenly remember that it was just like this that one time... I've had some "that one time"s here and somehow they manage to be a little sad. Something that passed so quickly - too quickly. Things shouldn't be over already, but they are. My term is nearly half complete. I've seen half the things I will probably see, done half the things I will do...only made half the mistakes I will make. My senses are overwhelmed with what to take in and what to leave out, what to analyze and what to take at face value, what to mourn the loss of and what to cherish the memory of (and what to fight like hell to keep). My time here is so long and yet so limited. My entire body is still adjusting - still figuring out how much is too much and how much isn't even close to being enough.

My full presence is needed here, I'm just still not sure where I am.