I’m currently living in Monroe, Louisiana, an expatriate and an inpatriate at the same time.
Having a similar crisis of identity to the one that I had in Paris–where am I from if my home is occupied and my heart is far away? I am torn into a million pieces, each of them happily living their double lives in the places that I’ve left behind. I’m ecstatic about being here with my family, and accepting of the fact that I’ve spread myself too thin–each of my experiences of self will never be united again, but did I ever want them to? This is what I’ve dreamed about since I was young.
This summer has allowed me to understand human nature better and reinforce the bond with my family–and it’s only been two (?) weeks. I’m looking forward to see what my time here will bring me.
In more human language, I’m working at a cafe now, earning my keep and learning the true value of a dollar. I’m learning about art theory, getting to know my field of study and how it all works as a unit, as opposed to isolated instances in time linked together by abstract terminology. I’m curating my own exhibit. I’m educating others about art via the internet. My time here is well-spent.
And it seems as if I’m learning German? Der Koch liest, Ich mag das Kind, I’m learning as I go–I’ve already pleaded on this blog, but every human should be using Duolingo… I’m truly learning, for the low, low price of nothing. I just hope I can retain my French throughout the coming months.
(psst… if you’re on duolingo, add me. aliciaf)
I just got through The Value of Art by Michael Findlay–an incredible read told in layman’s terms from one a man who has been intimately acquainted with the ins and outs of auction houses via his time spent at Christie’s during the last half century, accompanied by a heartfelt plea to appreciate art for its aesthetic, rather than monetary, value.