Silent Tunes

The main problem with this blog is that it's about me. Though I may be captivated by all that I write about me, I doubt that anyone else is. In fiction you can write about yourself under the guise of writing about made-up people.

I live in Budapest, Hungary; I'm here studying music. My father's a diplomat and was posted here for three years. When he got a new assignment in Africa (Libreville, Gabon) my older brother began attending college in the States (Notre Dame), and I decided to stay here. I study piano with a private teacher and attend a music high school for other subjects like solfege and music theory.

I'm interested in people. I enjoy watching them in the buses, on the sidewalks, and in the underpasses. I like listening to them. And I like writing about them. I haven't quite figured out yet how much of a person's art comes from themselves or from the people around them.

Because Daddy's in the Foreign Service, we've traveled a lot. I've lived overseas since I was five, with only relatively brief returns to the United States. This has had the result of making America a foreign country to me: strictly speaking, it is not my home. There really isn't a culture or society that I feel is my home, as I've grown up in so many. Being homeschooled has added to this effect.

I expect it would be good to thrown in a mention (for effect) at this point of the failed mutiny we lived through in Central Africa, and of the riot that took place when we were in China. The latter resulted in our being evacuated from our apartment behind the consulate to a hotel, and the former in our being evacuated back to the States, though in both cases Daddy had to stay behind. During the riot I remember being frightened by the burning down of the consul general's residence next door, and by the thought of how small the walls around our apartment building were. My brother and sisters slept through that night. During the mutiny, I recall continuous gun fire (I was ten at the time) and driving in a military truck through town and not being able to take off at first for Cameroon because of fighting near the airport.

On a final note, my favorite Agatha Christie mystery novel is And Then There Were None.

		wArchives:
		-- HOME --

		wWednesday, January 14, 2004
		Well, I'm back. waves Africa was stupendous. In the first place, I saw my family again. In the second place, I spent my days swimming, kayaking, sunning, playing tennis, and watching movies. I feel refreshed, like my batteries are recharged. Now I'm back in Budapest and it feels COLD here. Though I have been assured it was much colder just after Christmas. But it not only feels cold it feels so completely weird it makes me dizzy. Different world this. By the way, I would just like to inform the world in general that growing up can be like getting stretched, flipped over, and turned inside-out. I don't think I like it. I have now seen all three Lord of the Rings movies. smirks They were very good, and I have decided that I'm still a Frodo fan, even if he is a complete wimp. His wimpiness does not erase his big blue eyes and sweet smile. I also finally saw Ocean's Eleven, as my sister got it on DVD for Christmas. I got Into the Woods and spent this evening watching the second act. It's a stupid song, but I still got sort of choked up during 'You Are Not Alone'. The same sister who got Ocean's Eleven may be coming to visit me here in Budapest later this year. That would be wonderful. It was very odd to be with family again over Christmas. Dizzy, I tell you. posted by Rebekkah at 7:57 PM

Comments: Post a Comment