Usually I try not to use this blog as a means of personal journaling. Of course I talk about myself and my life, but I try to hang these anecdotes on their associations to the outer world, whether it be about travel or politics or literature or music or that general, grand theme of growing up that I just cannot escape in my writing.
Today, though, I just want to say things are good.
In the classroom, I taught a lesson on the elections that turned into an hour-long Q &A about activism, systematic racism, capitalism, and the prison-industrial complex. History teachers came to sit in on my subsequent lessons later that week. Teaching, it turns out, is what I should be doing. Even if being an assistant is (fucking) frustrating (most of the time) because teachers have a tendency to take over my lessons or tell me to teach weird subjects, being in the classroom is such a natural act.
I’m forcing myself to leave the apartment and interact with new humans through Tinder, which, with all its bad reputation, is rendering some truly unique experiences that, in all their strangeness, I truly value. I went on a bike ride with a man who works for vineyards from Béziers to the beach– which is 20km each way, and uphill on the way back–and left, exhausted, amid a torrent of mockery, saying “j’ai besoin de faire des rélations” (I have to go have sex) instead of “j’ai besoin de faire des leçons” (I have to go lesson plan). I made an Irish friend that I talk to most days. I almost went to a lake with somebody to only try and navigate the French of telling them that I was afraid they were going to try and murder me there, originally using the fact that they were a little late as grounds to never, ever have to meet them.
The American assistants I met in Montpellier my first week in France while I was living in a hostel there have turned out to be some truly wonderful friends, and I visit them at least once a week in Montpellier (this week it will be for Thanksgiving, and I cannot wait!). Saturday, they came to visit me in Pézenas and gave me a whole new perspective on how beautiful my small town can be through going to the Saturday market, picnicking, and café hopping with me all day.
I’ve hung out with my adult students outside of class (the camp counselor in me has gotten over itself) and made friends with some 70-year-old and up, English-speaking ex-pats.
I like to wander around this town and look for the best-smelling flowers that have grown outside of their fences.
My Instagram is doing well.
I like to have time to myself and write.
I like to read and go to cafés.
I just, finally, like being here.