Things I've Learned at 21

• There will always be something broken at the end of the wild night out, no matter how inconsequential.
• Some people are flaky. Others just need an ice-breaker.
• No matter how subtle you think you're being, your roommates will always know what you're doing.
• The moment you decide to eat less is the moment all of the most delicious and unhealthy foods suddenly appear in your life.
• Hangovers and sleep are inversely correlated.
• A lot of learning languages is the art of bullshitting your way through interacting with other people who don't really understand you but don't stop you anyway.
• A man who continues to pursue you even after seeing you at your autopilot worst level of drunkenness is either a winner or very frustrated.
• The moment your age becomes one number larger never feels any different than the moment right before it.
• Economics lessons in inflation become personal when the average cost of a decent bottle of wine rises from 1.85€ to 2.25€.
• You should always counterbalance your questionable life decisions with a general scheme for accelerating the otherwise good things you have going on.

Cultural Identification

One of the hardest things to come out of the experience of studying abroad during my undergradutate career and living as a non-committed adult in Europe again thereafter has been the concept of reconciling what exactly the purpose of traveling this far and spending such prolonged periods of time away from my home country is. Coming from a country so large in which it is possible to live without considering the existence, much less the differences of, other countries and customs, to living on a smaller continent with a multitude, to a great order more, of cultural identities and differences is a lesson in what exactly an American cultural identity is and can be. To put it more simply, regional differences aside in the United States, there is a certain strength in the connected and continual nature of American culture throughout the entire country, and it is possible to grow up in the United States without perceiving that you belong to any specific culture whatsoever; the "default" exists so widespread around that it is easy to overlook how it is unique relative to others. A good example of this is the way in which we mistakenly tend to believe that our standardized accent, the "neutral" American accent featured in most news media and without extreme variation in large swathes of the country, is in fact "accent-free". Nowhere does this seem more obviously untrue than outside of that native context, in other words, in a place where what is taught (if not used in common practice) is a different variety of English. Relative to myself, as it were, is a creeping sense of assuredness in myself and my place on foreign soil.

I have spent a lot of time trying to "become European" by way of transforming my appearance and mannerisms so that at first glance I could be mistaken for a generic person from an unidentified European country, usually ascertained as from the north or east, and to a large extent that has worked. More importantly, though, this has been as an attempt to overshadow that which distinguishes me as obviously American. When I speak either French or Portuguese, I speak with good accents, noticeably foreign but hard to pin down as to their origins; I spend much time training myself to hear and emulate the sounds of each language both because I'd like not to sound like a philistine and because I find it one way of acknowledging that I make an effort to assimilate myself into my surroundings. Yet despite all of these things, my Americanness persists, and bit of it trickle down even so far as into my accent — the way I vocalize vowels tends to be more open and approximated than native French or Portuguese really allow — and it doesn't take much time to divine where I come from upon meeting me. Yet the reflection that has grown on me in my most recent months here has been to more fully own and embrace those things which make my American self come through. I have long since shed any pretensions of "becoming European", but what has happened in a more accelerated manner recently has been an acceptance of my role as The American within my social circles and managing the expectations that come with that against the reality of who I am when presented with the prospect of meeting new people.

Contrary to what we tend to fear when going abroad, my overwhelming experience has been that of interest and excitement in my cultural background as opposed to conceptions of ignorance and assumptions of folly. As opposed to sharp criticism, I find much more friendly comparison, regardless of where people come from. Instead of needing to exchange my culture for a new one, shedding the past and transforming myself into something new, the essence of what I am writing here is that I have come to realize a multicultural existence in which I am obviously foreign in any country other than my own, but my personal background is closely linked to a multitude of cultures, languages, and customs, and that is what I have to contribute regardless of where I am. It seems so simple once you reach a conclusion, doesn't it?

Pensamentos, Take 2

The finer details of life. It's a cliched concept that has spurned a quasi-industry of self-help books, purported experts, and many a vacation for the sole purpose of losing oneself within oneself. It's a lofty goal to attain for anyone, though less so those in the higher strata of the socio-economic spectrum, and the idea is kind of ridiculous inherently because how can we begin to define what it is? What are they, where do we grasp them, where can they be bought, what does the box look like? This is, what I have begun to gather, a particularly American way of looking at the world, and yet I arrive at having to dismantle that particular cultural yoke in order to pursue them within myself.

My post-graduate space is, of course, marked by the time I am spending in Europe doing approximately nothing (and nothing can be a whole lot of things, let's not get so literal as I am wont to do), the relationship I have cultivated with a certain bodhisattva and how it is deconstructing, reconstructing, enriching, and detracting from all the rest, and how all of this is supposed to sum up to a platform from which I will leap into the next phase of adult life, be that a master's degree or the commencement of a professional career.  Yet coming to Paris and having two weeks to occupy my own head space free of the banalities of life as I am accustomed to it and the obligations that come along with being at home in Lisbon or Denver, being received in an optimal fashion, and breathing somewhat more introspectively has given me a needed refresher on greater perspective and allowed me to stop viewing the loose ends around me as rope with which to form knots from which to hang myself, others, anything at all. Overwhelmingly, to the extent of requiring a change in linguistic environs, the message has been to stop thinking so much about the minutiae that perturb, period. Just stop. There is no elaboration.

So I have taken on, starting in Lisbon but continuing along much more in Paris, the idea of retreating inward and appreciating the more basic details of life—the sensual pleasure of the texture, smell, and taste of food, the full-body experience of the way the sound waves reverberate within oneself when listening to good music, the physical excitement from the intellectual challenge of discovery and growth. To think that a pursuit so simple has caused, in its own way, such a fair amount of grief and strife in my personal life is to oversimplify, yet it has. It's taken this long for me to fully grasp that this is all to say that part of self-actualization and part of being your own person sometimes means that you don't have to have complicated or finely elaborated explanations to things. Sometimes things are as simple as the brevity with which we describe them, and that should just be left at that. Sometimes the grand adventure is banal and mundane, and sometimes the satisfaction derived from that is acute. I could stand to learn from that in my own writing, don't you think? I, uptight by nature, reserved and literal, pragmatic and organized, rigid to a fault at times, obsessive always, am learning to chill out.

Alas.