When you were growing up, did you ever feel that you were extraordinary? I did! I thought I was really something special and maybe I still do. Besides those (irrational…?) feelings that maybe I could fly and join the X-Men, or have telekinesis; although there are still times when I look at something across the room and try to move it with my mind because it there is one thing that Charmed, X-Men (oh how I love X-Men can you tell?), Star Wars, and Dan Brown’s latest novel tell me, it’s that people have a substantial amount of power in their minds. Just ask Yoda. But I digress.
After getting over those never-gonna-happen ideas (or are they?), I moved on to the I’m-going-to-change the world ideologies. That’s when you’re in your preteen-mid teen years and you think yeah, it’s good to be altruistic and care about turtles in the jungles that get crushed by falling trees. Of course, I bypassed part of that, I just wanted everyone to learn the amazing value of literacy and why reading for pleasure is so much more important than reading for tests. That failed, and I blame it on those too many tests. Then you get to college and you forget to care about the rest of the world; your life is centered around your ability to wake up before the sun, study your ginormous butt off, go to class (in my case, labs which lasted all day but to be fair they were like Chocolate & Sugar Artistry so it was quite nice on the surface), eat at some point, work, make friends?, and sleep again. Then grad school came along and I was some puffed up punk, thinking I was pretty smart and started to fall in love with the idea of changing the world again. I got my first full time job outside of school in New York City, and I successfully did that for almost two years! I was proud of myself, and I was starting to find my way in life, slowly but surely.
And then I fell in love, moved to Germany, got treated nastily by a bunch of preschool teachers, and realized my own insignificance. I can’t move that glass of water across the room no more than I can make lasting friendships or have a successful, meaningful career over here. I’m in a hopeless rut; I try to communicate, make plans, make friends, but I keep falling flat on my face. Leaving this apartment and my own little corner (Cinderella, because I’m dramatic), is getting more and more difficult. I’ve lost my way, and although our apartment is sparkly and nice, I don’t feel an ounce of success. I didn’t make this, you know what I mean?
So I’m doing yoga, writing, trying to make our little abode a home, but all the while I have this niggling feeling that there is a world out there that I could be embracing, succeeding in, changing with my extraordinariness(<– not entirely sure if that’s a word…), and I can’t do any of it because I’m here in Germany the land of rules and I didn’t get a rulebook.