So, Friday night after an evening spent learning about Hinduism and eating chocolate zucchini cake, Daniel and I caught the 10 o’clock showing of Persepolis, and it was everything I had imagined it would be. The highly stylized animation was both stark and expressive, and the story revolving around the torn loyalties and emotions of Marjane Satrapi, an Iranian girl coming of age during the Iran-Iraq War and Iran’s theocratic revolution, was both comical and heartbreaking. (Sadly, Ratatouille beat it out at the Oscars for Best Animated Feature Film)
After a Saturday brunch of the most excellent raspberry/chocolate chip pancakes garnished with homemade raspberry sauce and homemade whipped cream (oh. my. god.), I spent the rest of the day partially packing, partially moving, partially unpacking and partially agonizing over which books to part with in my ever-expanding and recently overwhelming collection. A word of advice: if you feel the need to collect something, let it be stamps or coins or postcards or anything else readily mobile. Do not collect heavy-ass books!
Saturday night Michelle and I hauled our butts out to the dark, scary countryside known as Nolensville to partake of Josh and Kim’s bonfire and the obligatory bonfire accoutrements (namely, s’mores). I love, love, LOVE bonfires/campfires (even without s’mores…but it’s always better with).
There was the perfect weather. There was the UT/Memphis basketball game being projected on the side of the house. There was plentiful food and alcohol. There were fun people and even funnier dogs. But the best part of the night was when UT won the basketball game and Josh brought out his carefully preserved, dry-as-a-bone Christmas tree and launched it onto the bonfire. Holy Shit! That sucker lit up the sky – I think the beacon of fire was probably visible from Nashville. I tried to take a picture of it but my phone camera and photography skills SUH-UCK and thus I was not able to accurately capture the pillar of flame! I swear, it was very nearly a religious experience. Heh.
Sunday was also spent partially packing, partially moving, and partially unpacking. Oh. Have I mentioned I’m moving in a week? I always sorta forget to impart important information like that. Fear not, I’ll be sure to send out my updated location information to y’all. So, as I’m packing and mentally preparing myself for suddenly living with a roommate after 10 years(and really how could anyone ever fill Sara’s shoes!?)…a male roommate…a male roommate who I am dating, my phone rings. And there on my screen is the familiar name of the boy who moved across the globe 5 months ago and took part of my heart with him.
He’s back for his citizenship interview and will be in Nashville for 5 days until he heads to Denver and then back across the globe. I knew he was coming back into town. He told me he was coming back into town. But when I saw his name on my screen and heard his voice, it felt like someone had knocked the wind outta me. And I felt torn. Feel torn.
...but not in an embarrassingly melodramatic, nauseatingly self-indulgent Natalie Imbruglia kind of way.
