America, the blog

America is HUGE. The streets are so wide it’s like there are whole streets on either side of the street, and the cars are like ten feet tall. When I go into a Sam’s Club, looking to the far wall makes me feel like those submarine guys (and now girls) who can’t focus on anything more than 100 feet away after being underwater for all those weeks. There’s so much unused space—empty freeway turnarounds, wide medians and ditches along the freeways, parking lots stretching for miles.

My first visit back to the US since moving to Italy was Christmas day. It snowed, and took a long time to get to Julie’s parents’ home. I ate Mexican food, BBQ, played in an indoor water park, and spent time with our families. It was a good, if short, trip.

The biggest thing I notice, besides the size of everything, is this ridiculous sense of superiority that kept splashing over me like a wave of muddy water from the gutter. These people in Perkins have never been without this Perkins, and have never seen the inside of Da Michele’s, the voice in my head sneered. These people in Target don’t know what they have. These people at Pizza Hut… please.

Following a friend through an intersection as the light turned yellow, an imagined conversation appears in my head.

“Hey sorry about going through that yellow light,” I imagine him saying. “I hope you were able to follow me alright.”

“Please,” I answer with a sniff, “I’ve been driving in Naples.”

Now I don’t actually think any of these things, and I know how like an ass I sound admitting it. I don’t feel superior to those people in farm garb in the Perkins because, for one, I have no idea whether they’ve lived only here all their life or not, and more importantly, two, it doesn’t give me any edge over them in any forum anywhere no matter what we’ve done with our respective lives. I don’t think I’m superior to them any more than I feel afraid of a black guy on the street, or want to have sex with a random pretty girl I notice, or want to act on any of the violent, suicidal, or destructive thoughts that invade my mind every minute of every day. I am amazed, however, by the frequency of these thoughts and their varied manifestations throughout the entire time I am in the States.

So, family (who are the only ones reading this, I assume), there's my confession and please don't take it the wrong way. I can't wait to hang out again. Also, tickets are bought and hotels booked for Ireland in Feb. and I'll have some thoughts up on Rome from last week's trip in a few days. Sorry for how long it's been but, hey, I've been busy feeling too good to write. Maybe one day I'll write something good.