The History Of You And Me

May 2020.

I love the architectural beauty of historical buildings.

This is the first time I'm actually acknowledging this. I'd always enjoyed sightseeing when I traveled with my family. They would go to fancier places and I always stayed back and went to the older, not-so-popular ones.

The chirped wall paintings and doors, the details in the tiniest of designs. One doesn't have to be all that clever to see that much more time was spent in building the older structures in comparison to the newer ones.

They have survived the tests of time and nature.
They have seen it all and yet they stand so graciously, ready to face more.

They have many stories to tell.

I'd thought about studying architecture briefly after dropping out of Cambridge. It was part of the 'figuring myself out' process and finding my life's purpose.

I'd soon realized that though I loved architecture, it wasn't necessarily what I wanted to do for a living.

And I guess calling it architecture is pushing it a bit. I just enjoyed staring at structures of historical buildings.

I think if I'd majored in it I'd have ruined it for myself. The art of it. I would have over studied it and lost interest eventually.

I think that's what happens with a lot of people. It starts as a passion. Something you can't wait to think about, to dream about.

You wake up in the morning and that's the first thing that pops in your mind, it's the one thing you can't wait to do, and to talk about.

But it becomes your job once you make it your job. And then you wake up one day and it's not as exciting as it used to be. You don't get butterflies in your tummy when you think of it, because now it's required of you to think about it. It's no longer something you want to do but rather something you have to do.

I like not exactly knowing much about the brickwork but still being able to admire it, it's like a fascination of the unknown. Maybe it's because I like to make up my own stories about them. Better stories that don't include slavery, whore houses, and whatever other traumatizing thing they used to do back in the day.

Olli had suggested I ventured into Philosophy, maybe even Psychology. He'd said that was something he'd thought better suited my personality. He'd pretty much thought that since we met.

But even though I'd looked into it, I knew I didn't want to study it. Or anything for that matter.

Is it really odd that I don't care to have a career? That my aspiration in life is simply to be happy.

Maybe I saw what having a big ambition did to dad, or maybe I just don't care for it altogether. Whatever reason it is, I know that I just want to live every day freely, stress-less and happy.

But back to old structures. I love looking at them, studying them. It's a weird quirk to have but it's my quirk.

So as I stand now studying the architectural phenomenon that is the Église Saint-Sulpice. I hear,

"Do not move."
I move.

"You set yourself up for that one."
I say jokingly to my husband noticing he was trying to take a picture of me and we both laugh.