It’s 1am and I can’t sleep. It was a year ago I lied in bed, not far from here, unable to sleep. Tossing and turning thinking about picking up and moving to Rome. And here I am literally, just down the street, a year later, thinking about moving back.
My mind is racing. What will I do with that comforter I bought? How much do I give away, can I afford to ship my vespa home, will it pass a California smog test, should I bring it to Colorado? what I do I do with my coffee maker and TV? God, do I even want to come back? Is this permanent, am I really going back? Do I have to go to LA? Really? Fuck man, I want to go to Colorado, New York, some small tropical island, sure as shit not fucking LA…
The Russian just went to bed. Thank god. I miss Penelope. The Russian talks too much.
I told her today she has to move out earlier than expected. And I told the other girl that was going to be my new roommate not to bother, I was leaving for an indefinite amount of time. She wants to rent my vespa “while I’m gone”
What does that mean, while I’m gone? Do I really want to leave?
I guess I do. It’s just. I like it here so much, and what about my job? I mean, yea it’s not enough money, but I really really like it. I love reading scripts and talking about movies all day for a living. Too bad it’s not A LIVING. That’s the whole problem isn’t it. It’s not enough money it’s just fun. I like acquisitions and development. Maybe I haven’t pushed myself hard enough. Maybe I could have gotten more out of this time…
But what more? Wasn’t this whole time in Rome about NOT pushing myself for once, wasn’t it about resting and finding stillness, and letting my ego rest? Didn’t I do that? Why am I freaking out?
I am kinda. Freaking out.
I don’t think I want to go back to LA. I don’t think I want to turn 30 and move in with my parents a week later. I don’t think I want to go out and watch all the people I love slowly drink themselves to death. I don’t think I want that mediocre life of mine back in LA…
I think I’m just feeling whiny. I think I am just pre menstrual. I think I’m tired and don’t want to have to take a sleeping pill to sleep again tonight. (fucking jet lag… it’s been like 6 days….)
I don’t know. I’m tired, and Pete is snoring for gods sakes.
Maybe I should leave early. Maybe I shouldn’t leave at all.
1 comment:
Chase- first of all, thanks for letting Caroline and Me be a part of the best week of your life (so far)! We had a great time too, and continued too until Katrina hit. Then it was just anxiety over whether her parents survived or not, and if our place in NOLA made it through intact. Yes to both, though her folks lost everything. House, cars, furniture, etc. Sardegna was beautiful but not so relaxing as we had hoped it would be. Now then, don't be so overdramatic about moving out of Rome. Remember, I didn't even move there until I was already 31, and still managed to last a good 10 years. You can always go back. That being said, times are different, the world is different, and it is not as forgivng as it once was to be a foreigner WOP in Italy. The term WOP, which came to be a perjorative term for Italians in America is sadi to be an acronym for WithOut Papers. I was for 5 years in Italy.
If you lend or rent the Vespa don't expect to see it again, at least not in the condition that you left it. I wouldn't try to keep or store anything. You might not ever go back. Hell, you might move to Paris, or Bora-Bora for that matter. Leave the material goods that drag you down. Have an Apartment sale. Advertise in the newspaper for foreigners since they are the only ones who really get that concept. Italians thiink it is weird to sell your personal things because they never want to buy second hand. That being said there is a paper called "Secondo Mano". It has lots of used goods. I know that most of what I've said is just practical bullshit, but don't think that we in L.A. don't want you back. I think I told you about my dilemma as each year went by that I felt I hadn't accomplished anything yet to warrant my returning home as anything other than a loser. You can't worry about that. Because it's not true. And by the way, not everyone iin L.A. is slowly (or rapidly) drinking themselves to death. At least I'm not! love, Roberto
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