The Big Bang Effect

Last night, I dreamt I was about to embark on a daring journey across the Universe. The Universe! Wow, I guess I really do want to get out of here. Ok, apart from my unconscious voicing the evident, the dream didn’t come out of nowhere. Just before hitting the sack, I watched a few episodes from the History Channel’s The Universe – really fascinating stuff. Still, venturing out into the Universe sounds pretty appealing right now… Earth to Juliet (no pun intended) – right now, you are home, indefinitely, dream on!

Needless to say the transition home has been a bit of a shock to my system. I was as far away from comfort as possible and now I am relishing in it. In Thailand, I woke up every morning to the perpetual promise of the mystery of what that day would bring. I loved never knowing what new adventure lurked around the corner. And man did I get my fair dose of it between the concussion, the broken hand, the robbery, the list goes on. I was effectively a walking disaster. In fact, my mother seriously considered shipping me a helmet after the concussion incident. Apart from the shocking fact that helmets do exist in Thailand, that was just pure lunacy. I knew my mother was slightly on the over-protective side, but really? Anyway, maybe she should have sent me that helmet, because my karma progressively deteriorated from that moment on. Towards the end of my time there, I got a worried email from one of my fellow-teacher friends suggesting I invest in a bubble-wrap duffel coat, just in case. (The innovative world of fashion has not failed us, we have a picture to demonstrate that such a coat does in fact exist!)

Turned off from moving to Thailand to teach English? Please don’t be. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. All of those mishaps are what made my experience ... well an experience. According to Merriam-Webster, “experience” is “the fact or state of having been affected by or gaining knowledge through direct observation or participation.” Yes, I was affected, yes I gained knowledge, yes I participated, and yes I most certainly was in a state. A crazy crazy state. After all of that insanity, I was ready for a little comfort.

I went from a place where I had no safety net – oh did I fall, and oh did I get hurt – to the place where my safety net was born. I returned to Larchemont-les-bains (French version for Larchmont – I think it adds a certain je-ne-sais-quoi to the name), where everywhere I go someone will undoubtedly recognize me. I take that back. I shouldn’t flatter myself – I’m not that popular here. My 16-year old sister, however, is. Apparently we look like twins these days. “Wow, you look just like Victoria now.” “No,” I sweetly respond, “she looks like me.” I came first! The other day, my neighbor of 20 years came over for dinner. After a long conversation about the meaning of life, he asked me, “where is Juliet?”

Ok, seriously though, apart from the apparent confusion with my little sister (hey, I guess it’s flattering, it means I look young), people do know me here and it’s not necessarily a good thing. By now, I should be adept at explaining my return home. That is clearly not the case; otherwise I probably would not have started a blog obviously attempting to make some sense of the whole affair. Nevertheless, I have concocted a fairly serious story about applying to grad schools and looking for a job. But despite my respectable story, I still get those perplexed “are-you-sure-you-know-what-you’re-doing-with-your-life” looks, as if there were some other reason for being home I’m desperately trying to keep under wraps.

In all honestly though, the comfort of home, the safety net, is exactly what I needed after being away for so long. I was basking in this thought the other day at my brother’s wine tasting around the corner – yes, still in Larchmont and yes, my little brother has a legitimate job. We’ll get into that one later. Anyway, equipped with my “serious” story, I was actually enjoying chatting with all my parents’ friends – members of my so-called safety net, some of whom have known me since I was a little girl. Out of nowhere, I managed to knock a bottle of wine off the shelf right between my legs. All eyes were on me and my crimson cheeks. (Definitely crashed that party).

At that point, all I wanted to do was disappear into a dark hole… or maybe somewhere into the Universe? – I should really work on that.

Return to the Crib - beginnings...

I considered baptizing this blog “Juliet, in Larchmont,” as the riveting sequel to my previous blog “Juliet, in Thailand.” Indeed, wherever Juliet goes, drama ensues and why would that not continue in good old Larchmont? Larchmont, the quaint New York suburb, which CNN/Money and Money magazine ranked 11^th on its list of the 100 Best Places to live in the United States, is where I grew up. It is my home.

Like most American suburbs, it’s truly lovely. Just the idyllic place to grow up… until the age of 16 that is... Then for the next 10 to 15 years depending on how fast you mature, the place effectively qualifies as quaint, or for the real haters as boring. “Hey, I like Larchmont,” my friend defensively stated to me the other day. And he’s right. I mean, the place has its perks – how else would it have received that kind of a ranking?

In all fairness, Larchmont really is a charming little town on the sea only half an hour from the alleged capital of the world. I love coming home…. As long as I know when I am leaving. The place changes when it becomes an indefinite return to the nest. For a 20 -something looking for a new adventure, Larchmont wouldn’t be on the top of my list. That being said, in my resolution of taking perspective on events as they unfold, I ask myself, “Maybe, just maybe this place has its own unique adventure to be had… lurking in the background?” “Foolish girl,” I can hear my childhood friends scorn. Home is home, and you’ll be thrilled to get out of there as soon as you can. True, but home has its own merit, and I’m not about to leave without making sure I understand why I’m here. Just as my 7 months of adventure in Thailand resulted in one of the most radically life changing experiences of my brief 25 years on this planet, my unexpected return to the crib will have its place too.

In a period of recession, more people have endured this return to the nest than ever before. This blog might appeal to those in the depths of debt, still recovering from being laid-off, or simply going through a standard quarter life crisis. I do not mean to jest about the latter, quarter life crises are a serious matter and should not be taken lightly, but I’ll get into that later…

The truth is, my sleeping pattern of the past few weeks has been rapidly deteriorating. Nerves. Why can’t I naturally be as zen as I should be after living in a small town in Northern Thailand for all that time? I mean, I should be a full-on Buddhist by now. Yet, the nerves are entrenched in me, like leaches, they poke their ugly faces as soon as they feel the temperature rise. Perhaps you are asking yourself why someone who is living at home, in the comfort of family life, should be so stressed that they cannot sleep? The entire time I was in Thailand, the promise of the eventual return to the comfort of home was what kept me living the adventure to the fullest. Now that I have returned, all I want is to find a way out! The irony. The grass is always greener on the other side my friends. Thus, ensues the taxing search for the next step, the next chapter so to speak... studying for the hellish GMAT examination, grad school applications… In brief, no sleep.

Last night, the idea of creating this blog came to fruition rather suddenly. I was particularly aggravated, as a naughty little mosquito kept buzzing in my ear all night long. I probably only slept about four hours, but in those few scant hours of sleep, I dreamed of writing about my life back at home. I woke up to the sound of the mosquito who was still there (those things are tenacious!). It was as if he were telling me, “Juliet, there is no time to sleep. You must write!” oh right, that makes perfect sense. I am 2 weeks away from the GMAT, which I am miserable at, I hardly see any of my friends anymore, do I even have any these days? They probably all think I’m rotting somewhere. But, I should write. Of course! So perhaps the mosquito should be this blog’s mascot. I mean, if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be reading all of this nonsense.