I don’t know if you’ve heard the imaginary news, but there’s an elephant in this tiny blog room. He’s got allergies. When he sneezes, he breaks things. (But he’ll buy them.) Perhaps you’ve felt him a time or two bumbling around the background. Despite his size, he’s actually quite small in comparison to other elephants. So, let’s talk to him and get him out the way.
Me: Hey, little elephant. What are you doing here? Have you heard a who?
Ele: Who dat! Who dis! I’m here so you’ll acknowledge you’re going to stay in Sweden after you finish your thesis. (Apparently this elephant can rhyme.)
Me: Well, shit. Here we go. You’re right. Even though this place can be depressingly cold and dark, I’ve found many rays of sunshine here. I suppose you could say one in particular is blinding, soul soothingly bright. So I’m going to stay here a bit longer than anticipated. I’m applying for a temporary residence permit (more on that in future blogment), looking for immigrant suitable jobs and trying this place on for size. Will I be here forever? I don’t know. Can’t say I picture it. Can’t say I picture living in Louisiana either. So who knows. I know this chapter isn’t finished being written. I know it hurts to silence other chapters I could be writing with you. But I hope you’ll sit right here with me for the rest of this ride. You’ve helped carry me this far and it’d mean a lot if you stayed with me.
The elephant’s shrinking, but he’s by no means gone. I tried to convey most of this in person to everyone at home, but I’m not sure how successful I was. So if you’ve got questions, you know where to ask. There’s more to explain, of course, and I’ll get to it all in time. Most importantly, I’m happy, healthy and somehow in harmony. I hope you are too.
Now on with the circus! (Or a recap of my visit home.)
I was home when the Saints won the Super Bowl. I was home when my best friend got bludgeoned by a life-size Native American wooden statue. I was home to be my sister’s first proper houseguest. I was home for my mom’s birthday. I was home to hear my best friend sing live and not through a computer. I was home to eat my dad’s homemade (RV-made?) bread. I was home to have all my families in one place. I was home to help make fish bikes. I was home to celebrate your anniversaries. I was home to wrestle with my 13-year-old puppy. I was home to make a pink king cake. I was home to watch you dance to Lady Gaga. I was home to be familiarized with the phrase “I be back. I be back.” I was home to eat broccoli and cheese soup from a breadbowl with my favorite advisor. I was home to play board games. I was home to drink in old stomping grounds with old friends. I was home to meet your new friends, loves and little ones. I was home to be employed by familiar faces in a new fancy office. I was home to help with creative endeavors. I was home to hear your voices, see your faces, laugh with you and feel your boundless warmth. (And now, admittedly, I’m crying just thinking about it.) I was home to be home as much as possible. I was home to show Karl what–more importantly who–home means. I think I succeeded in some ways. I guess. Don’t worry too much. I’ll be back around. I hope he’ll be back too.
Until then, you’re more than welcome to come visit me here. I’ve had my official first non-parental-affiliated visitor! (Not that I got anything against the parental unit.) Brandi, my 225/Business Report cohort made the icy trek across the Atlantic skies for roughly a week’s visit. I tore the soles off her shoes, essentially, squeezing in megatours of Copenhagen, Berlin, Lund and Malmo. Perhaps most amusing was our sad and wonderful trip to the Berlin Zoo. We’ve long been fans of Knut, the uberphotogenic baby polar bear. So we went on our own mini mecca to see him. He didn’t disappoint and neither did his other zoo inmates, especially the primates. There’s photo gallery action HERE. Brandi can vouch that I’ve got good people here too, can cook and carry your suitcase when the wheels snap like ankles (among other remarkable things). She would, however, recommend you come when it’s not quite so cold. I kept pointing out spring’s new bulbs, but I don’t think she believed me that it would get warm eventually.
In other news, I’m weighed down in thesis world at the moment. Got 10-pages due in a week (hence why I’m blogging now!). But I’m advancing quite well. I may even have myself a title. It goes a little something like this — The toaster has eyes: Anthropomorphism’s relation to psychology, design theory and phenomenology in the user’s experience of everyday, inanimate design objects. Basically I’m looking at design objects like this and this to see how they allow the user to be a designer and give objects faces and such when they weren’t there originally. Blah blah blah there’s all sorts of theory and stuff that gets mixed in. And 40-50 pages later it’ll all make sense. I promise. Basically I think I’m trying to explain in master’s level terms why The Brave Little Toaster has always been one of my freakin favorite movies. Why shouldn’t your toaster love you with adventurous devotion? Guess I better get back to it.
I leave you with two lines of wisdom I learned during my trip home:
‘Toy Story 2 was okay.’ –from a bathroom stall
‘I was hiding under your porch because I love you!’ –from Up
And one from me last week:
‘Do I need more monkeys?’
Click me and my awesome grocery store monkey for photos from home.
Monkey see, monkey do. Monkey click!