the final post.

Staring at the empty suitcase.

Don't think I'll feel like posting after this moment.

It's pretty basic from here on out: I pack, I sleep, I get on a plane for too many hours, get home and crawl into bed for 3 days.

My first impulse is to philosophize about my experience, so bear with me. Or skip the next paragraph or so, if it's not your cup of tea.

For the past three months, I've worked more than I've ever worked. And you've sort of followed me through this. I wrote down the things that happened, and shared some of my thoughts and impressions, told you about the work and the people and the city. But a person can't encapsulate three months of life and emotion into a blog, and you know that. It'll be difficult to describe this experience when asked. Where do I start?

"How was Moscow?!"

"Cold."

So forgive me, if I return and can't articulate. I won't know how. I don't know how to tell you about my family here. I don't know how to describe the ecstasy and despair, which sound like dramatic extremes but truly are not. Greg and Darren belting in the kitchen, Lydia with her prayers and her cookies, Katie's Nina and her heart and simply everything, Ariana's boy stories and the morning process, Rachelle's crunchiness, Jenny's role as my older sister, Donovan's sudden etude ideas, Jacquie's smile and help with my back bend, Tanya's sweetness, Jen's first shot and lovely energy, Kelley's constant photographs, Rachel's life as Lyudmila, Grady's Lazy Hazy Crazy Days of Summer, Josh's biting wit and preference for vodka, my philosophical conversations with Griffin and his alcoholism, Matt's frenetic and radiating energy, John's sarcasm, Megan's smile and bounciness, Shay's bangs... the little things that made up my life between classes and etude meetings and scene rehearsals. The morning hike to school with my headphones on as I attempted to walk 2 miles in the bitter cold in 20 minutes sans breakfast, those days that I woke up late. The 5 minute runs to PrimeStar between classes, apple blini and cappuccinos. The extraordinary amount of pasta and pasta sauce, all the time. The stumbling out of bed to wake up Ariana with a time check as I walked in and out of the room every morning. Trips to the theatre and having to collect tickets from everyone. Running etude meetings, and the now-hated storyboards. Walking across the little park to the blue productie and then to the green one once the blue one closed. The hours spent in Coffee House (Кофе Чауз) listening to techno, those two weeks that our Internet went out. The time that it took me and Darren to learn to listen to each other. The time it took for me to be willing to take apart my life to find Sarah. The knowledge that I'll be able to do that with all characters... that I've learned, at least a little bit, to combine. My newfound endurance and real passion for people. Knowing that everything, everything, can be used as fuel for my work.

So I suppose that's more summarizing than philosophizing, but both are helpful.

I don't think I'm the same. I don't know how I'm different, and I suppose I'll know more once I return, but I don't think I'm the person who left for Connecticut way back in September.

So I'll pack, I'll sleep, I'll get on a plane for too many hours, get home and crawl into bed for 3 days. I'll have Christmas with my family, then return to New York City to my new apartment with Katie. And life will continue. Life will continue with significant changes. Who knows what they are, but I think that they'll be there, apparent perhaps only to me.

So in love with everything about my life here that I can't fit it into text.

Not ready to leave, but ready to go back to the other side of the world.

"It is paradoxal." -Oleg

So there it is. There we go. This is where this story looks for closure.

All my love,

Marissa Elaine Parkes