welcome back.

welcome back. welcome back. welcome back.

It's year 3.
It's a crisp 107.6 degrees Fahrenheit outside.
I do nothing more than simply pass through the threshold of my un-airconditioned home and strip off EVERY last layer of clothing.
(What? My roommates aren't back yet.)
The name of the game is survival.

Transitions.
I’m bad at them. But I'm surviving them, too.

(Warning: I’m trying to keep myself from getting too “existential” which is why I’m writing this on Day 3 back in Spain rather than on Day 1. Logically, I get less and less emotionally overcharged as time passes… but let it suffice to say that the days right before, during, and right after such transitions for me are rather loaded.)

Thank God I've got the (more than sufficient) distraction of work to keep me from over-contemplating the back and forth, the ebb and flow, of maneuvering between two different lives while maintaining the same persona.

It's not that I am a different person... quite the opposite... I like to think that I am the same Julie Ann no matter where I am.

But I think it's comparative to trying to weave together the fabrics of two very different cultures.
They are both very strong and beautiful textiles…
each having their place and purpose…
forming a specific part of my wardrobe.
But they don’t blend together naturally…
they require effort to cohere…
and there are very few, thin threads to do the job.

It costs me dearly every time I leave a place.
But I’d much rather it be like so than any other way.

I stumbled across this quote which I think captures everything about me at the moment.
I love you all. Thank you for loving me.

you can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you,
but at the same time you carry them with you
in your heart,
your mind,
your stomach,
because you do not just live in a world
but a world lives in you.

frederick buechner, telling the truth.