Have you ever woken up one morning and felt like something was missing? Something just wasn't right but you can't really put your finger on it? It started a few weeks ago, I wanted something... something more than what I already had... I tried reasoning with myself: what more could I possibly want? I'm in Hungary, I've traveled to a few nearby countries, I'm having fun.... and? .....And I'm left wondering why I still have this feeling. Think of it this way: you've finally gotten something that you've wanted for your entire life.... now what? How do you top it? Where do you go from that point? Am I greedy for wanting more? I don't think that's the case... humans have a tendency to be insatiable.
So, like any natural human being I set out to figure out what it was that I wanted. Searching for something ambiguous and abstract? Easier said than done. I just tried to follow my instincts... when I wanted to do something, I did it. When I wanted to say something, I said it. No questions, just actions. Okay, so maybe I didn't do it to this extreme, but I tried at least, and it eventually led me somewhere.
The other day Loes and I went to lunch and then ended up in the Arkad. While aimlessly wandering around we saw a bookstore that I knew sold English books. Immediately I knew that I couldn't leave the Arkad without something to read. So we went in, eventually found the English book section littered with all different genres in no particular order. Scanning the shelves for a familiar title, I instead found a familiar name: Ayn Rand. For a brief second I was back in my AP English Lit class in my senior year. I remember reading Rand's Anthem for the first time, it took me all of two hours to finish due to the fact that it was so short and I found it impossible to put down. Decision made. About two hours later Atlas Shrugged and I settled down in my dorm room and I began to lose myself in Rand's words once again.
Within the first 10 pages I knew that I made the right decision. My craving not exactly satisfied, but acknowledged at least:
"She thought: For just a few moments - while this lasts - it is all right to surrender completely - to forget everything and just permit yourself to feel. She thought: Let go - drop the controls - this is it..."
So maybe I wasn't looking for something exactly, but more of a way to express myself; a way to better understand how I've been feeling for the past two months. Here, especially as an Erasmus (or technically Exchange) student, it's easy to lose yourself. Reality slowly slips away and all you really care about is what's happening here and now. It's the news from back home, good or bad, that reminds you of what's really going on, and it's left me kind of disoriented. When all you want is to live in the moment, it's the people from back home that leave you feeling torn between two places. All it takes is a conversation with your friends, the knowledge that someone needs you back home, or the simple "I miss you" that you hear every so often. And so I'm left wondering, what am I doing here? Thankfully Ayn Rand helped me figure it out.
So here I am, in Hungary, for this transient period of time, half of it already gone... and lately I've been obsessing over what's been going on at home. I'm not saying that I should be ignoring my family and friends, but I should be sure that I'm appreciating and taking in every moment that I can. So I put this newly found philosophy to use: yesterday a few of us decided to find a chapel in Pecs that was built in the 1600s and allegedly had an incredible view. The climb to it wasn't ideal, but the view? Perfect. Pecs is small, beautiful, and I love it. I wandered off by myself at one point and just stood at the edge of the hill, the warm breeze ruffling and tangling my hair, but I didn't care. I just stood there, remembering Rand's words and let go.
I'm glad I was alone because the expression on my face must have been priceless considering that I was somewhere between laughing and crying. Laughing because I'm still so happy that I came here that sometimes I can't believe it; and crying because... well I'm not really sure. Maybe it was because I was so happy and appreciative that I was to the point of tears, or maybe it was because I have the tendency to want to share my happiness, and I couldn't because the people I like to share my happiness with the most, like family and friends from back home, weren't there. I wouldn't call it homesickness because these emotions were fleeting, but I missed them in this moment more than usual.
But still I stood there, relishing every sight, sound, smell, and emotion. Feeling both happy and somewhat sad, and all the while very pensive as I stood there just watching the city below me. After a few minutes I wandered back to my friends and we sat and talked about inconsequential topics like television shows and what type of plastic surgery would you get if it was free. And then my friend Karolis said something that at first made absolutely no sense to me at all. He was asked why he wanted to be in the U.S. so much and he said that even though he was very unlucky the first time he was there, he still loved everything about it. I thought, usually if you have just one bad experience it has the potential to ruin your entire time, so how could he love it so much?
