This would be the update on my life, care of “Facebook” status:
Sara Bibb yells at her knees a lot lately: “no! you will NOT hurt at mile one! Just wait, gosh dangit. Wait until mile three and then you can be crabby all you want!” But no more. Now I’m wearing too much money on my feet, all for the pleasure of my old woman knees.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, I dropped about 100 dollars on a pair of running shoes. And that was after the coupon. But I hadn’t bought shoes in about 2 years, and it was just time. So I’m going to run tomorrow, and we’ll see how well I spent my money.
And then I was out with my mum tonight, looking at Christmas presents. And all I can do is see other countries. Everywhere. We were in Macy’s, and here’s how it went:
I saw a scarf thing that didn’t have ends, it was a circle. I looked a little confused as I held it up and said to my mum, “it’s like… 1/8th of a sarong?” (with correct pronunciation, thank you very much)*
There was a scarf with swirls and paisley things and also those little checks that Caitlin’s yellow scarf has. And I said, “what? This is a mismatched scarf. It’s like, Pashmina, plus a little France.”
Or the red checkered thing that was gathered at various increments. “Um, I think they tried the Palestinan scarf thing here that Urban Outfitters brought to the US… and it failed miserably.”
Or the sweater vest that I swooned over “ahh, mama, it’s like Scotland.” (yes, a sweater vest can be Scotland)
Or the floppy hat I put on and asked my mum, “do I look French? Or just goofy?”**
Or the gloves that were black and leather and made me think of the mafia and dark alleys.
Or the fact that the man who checked us out at the cashier’s stand just looked… so American.
And on the way home, while I dreamed about homemade chai and worried about work in the morning, it struck me.
I don’t know that I belong here, exactly. But what do you mean, I don’t belong here? Where do I belong, if not here?
Well, it’s not a new thought. But there’s suddenly some more evidence for it.
*I also yelled at my dad in Indonesian the other day. Because that’s not weird at all.
**I am aware that to some of you, “French” and “goofy” may be interchangeable terms.