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I always decide to write posts about my "feelings," that cringe-inducing word, when I am melancholy or extremely happy. But normally when I am melancholy. And sometimes I worry that people will read it and laugh at me but then I don't really care, because that's the beauty of writing on a blog into the weird space of the internet. You can write without watching your audience's reaction. You can be honest but not have the weight of other people's expectations. I suppose that is also the problem with the internet. People can feel entitled to say hurtful and unnecessary things to others because of their own insecurities and, whether it's honest or not, people read it and are hurt and the ones writing these things don't have to see their reactions and the pain they've caused. But, hopefully this completely unplanned blog post doesn't hurt anyone in particular. I don't believe it will. It may only hurt me or help me, which is sometimes the same thing.

So if you're laughing at me at this point, because of my semi-dramatic introduction, I really couldn't care less (although truth be told, that could be because I can't see you. I guess we'll never know. Unless you find me in the street and laugh in my face, but I would prefer if you didn't do that.)

I'm home. In California, perceived land of surfers, stars, and sun. In actuality, it is between 90 and 100 degrees Fahrenheit (which is between 32 and 38 degrees Celsius for everyone not in the U.S.), dry as a bone. I am very far from the ocean because California is absolutely massive, and I have yet to see a celebrity walking the streets of my suburban neighborhood (although to be fair I get the chance to see more stars than most). Everything seems the same as I left it, only different. I mean I was born in my little town in California and only had one house here so nothing changes too much. I've seen my high school friends (which are in actuality elementary school friends, the beauty of living in a suburb) and we've laughed until late in the night and went out on crazy runs to get frozen yogurt (a delicious food which I completely forgot about!). I've eaten so many cuisines I think my stomach isn't speaking to me (Japanese, Thai, Mexican, Southern, Italian, the list goes on). The beauty of living in California. I've been getting used to the crazy abundance of things we have in the U.S., the options, the amount of pure space around me, and also the tiny little bedroom I share with my sister. In some ways, the amount of space around me is both bigger and smaller than it was in Toulon. I really miss Emma who is in the U.S. but on the other side of the country, three time zones away from me and unable to call because she's in the middle of a national park. I also really miss Addie who lives in the same state but is somehow 7 hours away from me. The ridiculousness of the distance almost makes me laugh.

It is weird being back and no one can ever explain exactly what it feels like unless you've lived it before. And also it is really easy to be back. The old place feels like a dream and the new place feels normal again. And you're sad that the old place isn't as vivid as it once was. Sometimes I wonder why I have allowed myself to live in this strange moving place. Back and forth between France and California. I felt the same leaving Lyon, the same coming back, and the same thing again this year, moving back and forth from Toulon. And I am trying to leave again to France in September. What a mess. But at least, that is one thing I can always count on.

P.S. I'll post the other vacation ones eventually......hahaha