Tuesday, November 30, 2010


The other night some friends and I were having a conversation about growing up in the wrong place. We  were talking about how my friend from Bhutan was not made for the Bhutanese life. It was a life of restrictions, you had to be conservative. There was no talk about feelings, no expressing yourself. Women had to be quiet, reserved, the perfect image of a lady. But my friend was anything but. She spent her early years rebelling against everything. Playing with the boys, speaking her mind, refusing to conform. Finally she got out of Bhutan by becoming a flight attendant for American Airlines. She recalls from her time at American a life of freedom. She was able to experience the world and her eyes were open even more. It was then that she realized she was born for a much bigger place than Bhutan. After a few years she met a Danish man, fell in love, got pregnant (to her parents horror) and got married. It is not ten years later, and you should hear this woman talk! Her under the breath comments and loud exclamations always bring the room to laughter. She says the naughty things we are all thinking, but quickly apologizes with "I've always had something to say, but now that I can say almost anything and get away with it, I find it hard to stop!" We hardly mind, of course. Her Bhutanese roots keep her classy while her international persona brings us to tears of laughter. And we know, as much as she did when she first got out of Bhutan, that she belongs in the Western society, this is where she thrives, and we love her here.

This conversation got me thinking. Where do I belong? I had thought it was definitely not in the U.S. because I run away from there as often as I can, but then I always have to return. If it is in the U.S., then where exactly? I cannot figure that out. When I was in London last year I was reflecting on the same thing. My brothers seem to have all found a place where they thrive. One has found a beautiful life here in Denmark, one absolutely loves the West Coast and is happily situated in Seattle, Washington, one will never leave Boston, and another is quite comfortable is Wisconsin. But me, I can't seem to settle in one place for longer than six months. Vermont is too small and empty, Rhode Island just rubbed me the wrong way, and Denmark and I, we just clash, I can't seem to find my footing here.
I sometimes think if I could return to London it would be the place for me, but the people who aided in my infatuation with that city are long gone, would the effects be the same?
My indecision is sending me back to the comfort zone of Vermont. I am tucking myself back between the mountains in which I share a long lasting love-hate relationship. I run back to this little town over and over again but cannot wait to leave once I am there. I love the familiarity but feel suffocated by the overwhelming emptiness and the feeling that there is no where to go from there. There is no room for improvement, no way to get better. Returning to Vermont is a momentary pause in time. It is where I recharge my leaking battery, where I heal my wounds of the road, where I return to zero. But in order to get past zero I have to leave again.
Where to this time?

Monday, November 15, 2010


Yesterday my niece learned her last name. I don't think she knows what it means... but she is really good at saying it with a smile when we say "you're name is ...." But then whenever we ask, "Who's crazy?" She instantly replies "Me!" We have her trained pretty well.
Living with my niece is a strange kind of experience. I have been witnessing her grow up as if she were my own child. I heard her first word (Duck!), my name was the second one she learned, I saw the beginning of her crawls and her first wobbly stand. And now we are here. At two years old she is translating Danish for me, giving me butterfly kisses and listening to my heart beat with her play stethoscope. She wakes me up in the morning and gives me kisses before bed.
But she is not my own child, she is my niece, which means when I decide to return to the states, like I am doing now, I can't take her with me. I won't be able to see her every day, to have her tell me about school and the baby in mor's belly. I'll return to talking to her once a week on skype, hoping that she can calm down for just five minutes in order to wave hello through the computer screen. I can't help but worry that our special little bond will fade when I move away.
I know I am making the right decision, but it breaks my heart to leave that little girl. The other day while playing on the floor with wooden food and plastic tea cups I squeezed her and said "I love you more than anything in the world, did you know that?" But it wasn't until after I had said it that I even knew how true it was. This two year old, blonde hair, blue eyed, absolutely crazy girl had become my life.

Will I be ok living 5,000 miles away from her?

Friday, November 12, 2010

You've come in at the beginning of a movie

All movies start in the middle, and this is where you are starting with me. I thought for a moment about giving you a summary of my life until now, but that bores me so it will probably bore you as well. Also, I don't care to tell you about my life, I'm just here because I need to write. It has been forever since I've really written and I am afraid that if I don't try to do it as much as possible I'll lose it. I've already lost it actually, but I guess I'm trying to get it back.
Why write a blog? Simple, I have a ridiculous dream that some day I will write so well and someone will tell me that I am amazing and they want to pay me to do it. That is all. Also it is really boring to just write in a journal.

So here we are, the beginning of my movie, the middle (oh gosh no, not middle, first quarter!) of my life.
An American in Copenhagen, Denmark. A coward, a flake, a dreamer... these are all things I have thought of myself today. I'm leaving Denmark, heading back to the states, heading back to the land of the familiar. Well, sort of.
The land of the familiar is the middle of a hay field with cows in the distance and not a store for miles... and yes I guess I am going there, but I swear for just a month! Not longer... please not longer! I worry occasionally that I am giving up too early, but I am searching for happiness, and for me happiness lies with my friends.
My love and itch to travel always made me think that living abroad was what i really was yearning for. But it wasn't the living, it was the traveling. And now I don't travel, I just live, far away from my family and my familiar lifestyle. So I am returning.
But as I sit here watching my niece making "cake" for her mor and daddy I feel a bit of sadness. How do I choose between all of my friends and family in the states and my so adorable it hurts niece in Denmark? Sometimes it makes me resent my brother for moving so far away from my family. For depriving my mom of her first grand child, all of my brothers and sisters of their first niece. But that is selfish, how could I ask my sister-in-law to leave her family, her support system? I wouldn't if my husband's family lived in another country.
So I am going home. Hopefully I will move to Boston, hopefully I will get a good job. Hopefully no one will care that I never finished my bachelor's. Hopefully I will finish my bachelor's... and soon... hopefully I will not pick up and leave in another six months... like always...
There are way too many hopefullys... I just have to have a little faith and trust... and a bit of pixie dust