There is something absolutely gratifying about being able to reunite with people you’ve had really cool experiences with. Today, I met up with the Paris peeps; also known as the group that I went to Paris with. It felt like a fresh breath of air being around them today.
We talked about our trip openly and without judgment. We talked about being back in the states, and how many things needed to change back to “REGULAR LIFE” mode. We talked about missing each other. We talked about drinking, life, scandals, robberies, accents, love, lovely strangers, and crêpes. We all agreed it was nice to let it all out and share without feeling the need to censor ourselves. And it’s true, we do censor ourselves. Because when people ask about my trip to Paris, I have to watch what I say and how I say it. If I sound excited and eager, they think I’m a deuchbag/showing off. If I sound disinterested/trying-to-keep-it-simple, I sound conceited. What a relief to share and not feel any level of expectations.
We met at a crêperie in Berkeley, and our mouths filled with oversized breaded meals overflowing with spinach, salmon, mozarella, etc. etc. etc. Everything we gorged on was spectacular, an American version of the French cuisine. Larger than life, of course. Oh, to be back in America! Smiles, drinks, and too much food. It’s good to be back, we all agreed. And it was good to remember what we had in Paris.
I realized that it wasn’t necessarily the fact that we were in Paris (See, I sound like a deuchbag writing this!), but the combination of the people there. These people are incredible, and okay now I may sound like I’m showing off, but being around them literally brought back that little fire in me that triggers me to write. They inspire me! Their talks, their laughter, their mannerisms, our shared stories and experiences — it put me back smack down in the middle of Montmartre at 3:05pm when we were all walking through the souvenir shops and I pointed out this cheetah spotted scarf that was only six euros. A scarf my friend wore today because I did not want to spend the extra cash on something I might give away. 3:05pm in Montmartre—taking pictures as if we were always going to live there, laughing with the storekeepers, buying tiny circular music boxes that played popular music like Thriller. There was nothing else in the world but that moment, and it all came rushing back to me as I talked and ate my large crêpe.
I hope every writer out there has people around that makes them want to get up and write, write, write. This was a good day.