The Foreign Is Familiar

Now that the proper week is over, I can officially report on its awesomeness.

International night last night. Some friends picked me up and we went to an Indian restaurant on Center Street in Provo. We all ordered differently prepared chicken dishes. It was pretty good, and the conversation was fun. We talked about school and work and food. I got to tell a little bit of the story of living and working in New York. It was a story I told all the time while there, but it doesn’t come up often here. Plus, I really like these friends and felt I could open up to them a bit.

Then we went to the International Cinema on campus. I like the IC. It’s the “longest running program of its kind in the world!” Free, foreign movies. And of course, all the ones I’ve seen are amazing. We saw the Iranian movie,  Color of Paradise. Don’t tell, but I’d seen it before, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t excited to see it again. I’m the kind of person who can reread books and rewatch movies; there’s always more stuff to see and talk about.

Not long after my friends dropped me off, I’d begun working on some homework when a friend from Eastern European descent called. He was in the area about to get something to eat and wanted to know if I wanted to catch a movie. However, the one he wanted to see at the theater was about to start and he didn’t think he’d be able to make it. So I invited him over.

Blankets, check.
Smell nice, check.
Brush teeth again, check.

So he came over with his Mexican food, and we caught up a little bit at the dinner table. Then he sat in the middle of the couch, which is a hint for me to sit next to him, right? We went through my incredible, but small, collection of DVDs and decided on Wit. Not an international movie, but also not Hollywood-mainstream, and yet I did loan him Children of Heaven, from the same director as Color of Paradise.

Oh, gosh, you’re probably wondering. So we were sitting next to each other and the movie’s playing and we were both commenting on the movie, since we’ve seen it before. I turned out the living room light. I offered him a blanket, because I’d taken one for myself, and he accepted, but we ended up sharing both of them. We’re already sort of leaning on each other, arms touching, yada yada. A few minutes into the movie he announced he was taking off his shoes then after removing his them, he lay across the couch and rested his head on my ample bosom (those of you who know me realize this is a big joke and now it’s not funny because I had to say it’s a big joke). And, everybody knows that it is a truth universally acknowledged that I can’t have somebody’s head so close to me and not play with his hair. So that’s what I did.

We didn’t get to finish the movie. Midnight, curfews, etc. He had to go home.

Stop it with the booing. Like I was going to try to kiss him. Please.

But I didn’t. And that was sort of foreign.

A little discussion.

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