At our communal dinner the following evening when everyone discusses their day's accomplishments, I sheepishly confess my crime (well, I admit to Abducted but not Safe Haven, frantically choosing the one I think might have more ironic value as dinnertime conversation confessional). Even just one of those movies is quite a thing to admit to a table of serious artists and writers. My confession is not met with judgement, but rather confusion. They don't understand what I've done or why. I backtrack, make feeble jokes about how the werewolf kid is a terrible actor and it wasn't bad-good, it was bad-bad, and so forth. The conversation dips politely away from my disclaimers and on to more interesting things.

After this dark 24 hour period in phase three, I re-focus. I decide that NOW of ALL TIMES is the time to develop interesting habits, be more experimental not just with my work but with the seconds of my day. I read some of my weird, wonderful books. I take my notebook out to the empty fields and write. I ride my bike. I go exploring. If I'm at odd ends, I don't immediately seek distraction and stimulation. One night while I'm waiting to meet up with someone, I just stand and look at the sky. It's actually quite a novel, beautiful, overwhelming feeling, that of standing still and doing nothing while I wait.

moderation_kills_the_spirit_by_Kuna_Aayla_Secura — Moderation Kills The Spirit
Jenny Holzer
Image Via Deviant Art

ACCEPTANCE (THE ADAPTATION PHASE): Jenny Holzer once said, Moderation Kills The Spirit. I used to love that line except I actually don't know if it's true anymore. Perhaps balance is a better word than moderation, but in this final stage of my culture shock, I feel a profound sense of calm coming over me, in the impressions and sensations of my time and how I spend it. I'm working on my book, but I'm also staying up until 3am drinking wine, debating the meaning of love, walking through moonlit paths at midnight and occasionally winning a ping pong game. I'm deeply focused, but I also go to the library to friend request my new artist friends and refresh my offline Spotify playlists. I relish my quiet solitude, but I also hurry up the path to sit on the porch before dinner and talk to people. One beautiful evening, sitting on the porch as the sun sets, one thing leads to another and someone mentions how much he loves Nashville (I agree! I yell before I can stop myself). Another person admits to being addicted to Scandal (Watched the whole thing in two weeks, I exclaim). Two and a Half Men is even mentioned.

shockshock

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