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21 days to go.

I'm actually really glad to have gone to see my therapist yesterday. So much inner rage/turmoil. Deduced that this status quo is a direct result of very limited exposure to other people, that is to say that my lack of any sort of semblance of a circle of friends has caused me to become hyper-vigilant of myself, since I lack an appropriate social mirror to serve that purpose for me. Constantly assessing and re-assessing my assessments. It's enough to drive one's self mad, if they aren't there already.

But I'm not sure. In fact, last night I had a revelatory thought-

What if I have been thinking about this all wrong? What is all of the events that transpired last year were for a purpose, perhaps even a very good reason? So far I've vacillated between self-pity and self importance because of the whole ordeal, but for some reason, last night something clicked.

I would not have been able to manage this France adventure had all of those things not happened.

I see only two plausible scenarios.

One, everything was completely normal, I stayed in school and finished earlier. I developed lasting relationships with people around here (at least slightly more profound than they were before I lost it), I retained these relationships upon graduation and because of my ties here, I decided to stay... content to accept a life in this rust belt town, living within my means and adopting the veritable uniform of the 20 something eccentric thats so popular with the kids around here. Eventually marry some blue collar type with a good heart and stubble and have a few kids and my own organic garden and people around here are apt to do. And although this seems lovely in theory... I would know for the rest of my life that I had squandered my remaining 20 something years to establish a mediocre existence devoid of all of the excitement I dreamed I would experience.

Two, following in a similar trajectory of how things transpired last year, I continued to make money being a nanny as I descended slowly but surely into abject manic insanity, alienated myself similarly, but somehow, whether legitimately or otherwise made use of my passport and found myself abroad, only to continue on my unbridled path of self destruction/deception finally landing in some sort of institution and becoming some sort of international incident. Like that one kid who got caned for graffiti in the 90's, only way way weirder.

Ok, sure... both of these divergent projections are clear exaggerations... but in reality I don't think that I am wrong. Had everything not fallen apart last year, had I not ended up in psychiatric care (again), had I not debased myself to the point of utter unrecognition... I would not have the drive that I have. I would not have the important, no... INVALUABLE knowledge of my diagnosis that I have now. I would not have quit smoking. I would not have limited, almost eradicated entirely my alcohol consumption. I would not have the cautious optimism or the inherent understanding that to succeed, I MUST take care of myself in a very real way.

Had my manic break not happened last year, I would have continued on in my life believing that the first one was a mere fluke. That it would not or could not happen again. I believe that no matter what, it would have caught up with me again... and in many respects I am SO LUCKY that it happened here, where I had a safety net. Where I had individuals who knew me at least well enough to try to keep me afloat until I stopped making sense completely. Where, in the grand scheme of things, Cleveland is such a globally insignificant city that to fuck up here registers on only one local radar and then slowly fades away.

No ties means a clean break.
Resentment means fuel for the rocket boosters.
Knowledge is power.

No other single event could have been more informative, and beneficial than my manic break last year. And though the shockwaves still echo somewhat throughout the vicinity, I have learned to comporte myself in a much better manner than before. I have seen a slice of true human nature. I have gained invaluable insight when it comes to myself, my diagnosis, and my future. Without last year, I would be doomed to repeat the horrors of St. Augustine in some capacity at some future date which surely would have been so much more damaging than the foolishness of last year.

I am lucky.

But I am still looking forward to getting the fuck out of here.

But for the first time in forever, I don't think that I'll be leaving with two extended middle fingers... Much more probable for departure will be a knowing smirk.

c'est officiel

Well, today I got my passpot back from the consulate with my valid visa inside.
It's official. I'm going to France.
It's strange because up until this point it hasn't really felt real. I mean, nothing really has... I've become very (intentionally) detached from my surroundings, and a certain surrealism has seemingly overtaken my day to day experience.

The thing is, at best I am so used to things not working out. At worst, things going horribly, horribly wrong. So of course when I found a slip of paper yesterday stating that the USPS had attempted to deliver an express envelope which I knew to be the one I filled out dutifully and gave to the consulate with my Passport and all of my hopes and dreams... I figured immediately that I had been denied. Everything I had read had said that these things take at minimum three weeks to process, so I dreaded opening the envelope and finding some sort of explanation as to why they had refused my visa request.

I waited until 12:30 to go to the post office to pick up the envelope... preparing myself for a huge letdown, only to open the package and see what I have waited years to see.

A beautifully official student visa placed into my passport, granting me the ability to stay at least a year in France. I have to admit, I teared up a bit. I have waited so long for this to happen. And now, the last step before I set out on this adventure is merely getting on the plane.

26 days and counting.

Here's to hoping they pass avec bien vitesse...

nouvelle date

Well, the date is set. Officially. I leave here September 11.

Great day for flying, I know... but at least the price is right?

Went to the consulate in Chicago with my mom Monday for my appointment on Tuesday, which went much more easily than I thought it would. I suppose I really don't know what I was expecting, but my double/triple/quadruple checking of all of my documents and surplus of copies helped. I basically just turned in the papers, had a picture taken and was on my merry way.

Chicago was cool too... never been there before. Similar in ways to New York, but much cleaner and a lot more open. Having the river through the city proper also makes a big difference, and kind of reminded me of Paris and the Senne. Although not quite as lovely.

So, here I sit a month away from departure. No job, about 100 dollars in the bank. (I drained my account and gave it to my mom for safe keeping) and still no improvement on the social homefront. In fact, if anything I seem to have distanced myself even further from my remaining friends, which I didn't think was possible. It's impossible to live in this town after being socially blacklisted. Everyone knows everyone, or at least someone that knows everyone else so it just ends up being a huge gossip fueled clusterfuck game of telephone while in circle jerk formation- egos stroked accordingly with the putting down of other people acting as the new social lubricant.

I don't like playing that role anymore. It's degrading. However, it has lent itself to some pretty serious introspection which has resulted in me coming to terms with the fact that in addition to my very public displays of insanity and or general imbalance, another factor in this whole outcast thing has everything to do with the friends I have chosen.

I mean, you want to give people the benefit of the doubt. And being the kind of person that I am, even if hordes of people shun a specific individual, that fact never really deterred me from giving them that benefit- choosing to see the good in them, however minimal it may have been when compared to their overwhelming flaws. Also, these people to whom I gave this consideration seemed to do the same for me and therefore provided me with some sort of validation, however base it may have been.

Well this just isn't good enough for me anymore. You are the company you keep, or so I have been told- And I have kept really, really questionable company.

It's not that these people are inherently BAD, just as I am not inherently BAD... they're just not upstanding citizens. I mean, I wasn't for a very long time... but more recently I have been actively trying to change this. Thus, settling for the company that only fortifies your bottom dweller status because they accept you just... won't do anymore. I'd rather have no friends than shitty friends, who in many respects weren't every really friends to begin with.

They say that the common element in every blunder or mistake or bad relationship is you. That's very true. But what happens if you change, and that person that was a participant in all of those past gaffs doesn't exist anymore? I suppose that's a rhetorical question since, I don't have the patience nor the desire to try to, in the last month I have here try to prove to anyone that I'm different, or that my highlight reel far outshines my list (albiet lengthy) of failures. It's just not worth it, and in any case, had any of those people that I associated with before I lost it had actually been real friends, they'd still be around.

So, this next month I am going to devote to the tying of loose ends. The building of a solid jump off point. The quest of self improvement. And perhaps most importantly, the shedding of the last of the unfortunate skin that remains, obscuring, as the French would call, la belle vérité.

T minus 34 days until I leave you Cleveland! I WILL NOT MISS YOU.