Reality?

I hate when things happen that make me feel much older than I wish to feel. Like paying bills. I do not want to have to pay bills. I am 19 years old. I should be worrying about where I'm going to pass out after some frat party like every other American 19 year old, not how I'm going to afford cell phone bills and rent and groceries. Are you serious?

It is hard. And frustrating. Hard because I'm forced to realize that I am growing up, and quite fast at that. Frustrating because I cannot possibly make thousands of dollars off of one summer working in the U.S.. I applied for a second job today at this crazy, over-priced baby's clothing store. Then I'll be working two jobs for the rest of the summer and I will still probably barely scrape by in Paris.

How does everyone else do it? There must be some way to make the amount of money that I need without losing my mind. I just haven't found it yet.

Why I Love Home

1. Because alcohol is cheap and easy to get.

2. Because I have people that knew me before, knew me during, and know me after UWC.

3. Because my sister is out of control and more fun than ever.

4. Because illegal underage drinking is exciting.

5. Because everything is cheap.

6. Because I can hold my own and be respected in the Latino parts of town.

7. Because passing out on the floor with random people is entirely acceptable.

8. Because I get to sleep in all the time.

9. Because I don't have to see certain people on a daily basis.

10. Because it's hot and sunny.

11. Because I have beautiful summer clothes.

12. Because my parents treat me like a best friend and a daughter.

13. Because everyone is different but the same.

14. Because we have real Mexican food.

15. Because things make sense.

Secrets.

It's hard to believe it's only been two weeks since I graduated and left. So much has happened in two weeks. The entire world shook, crumbled, fell apart, and put itself back together in a whole new way in that two week time period. A little more than two weeks ago, I was drinking champagne and toasting to the year with Maria, Katherine, and Raine at the bench. Two weeks ago, I was sitting in Oslo, smoking a cigarette in the sun with Elisabeth and Raine. A week ago, I was being an embarrassing tourist with Marc in Copenhagen, laughing and happily stumbling back to a hotel. Hell, even six days ago I was riding on the back of a bike on small-town Dutch streets with Marc and his best friend.

Somehow, no matter how hard we try, we never really do manage to say everything to everyone that we hope we will. So here, in random order, are some of the secret things I've wanted to say to different people.

1. I am afraid that you will cut me off because you think you can self-preserve by not thinking of me because I can't be there. If you're not thinking of me, you can't miss me. Don't do that.

2. You hate wine. And emotions. Stop pretending. Be yourself more often, not just what you think you should be for other people or what you think looks good.

3. You inspire me. I wish you would have let me in more when we had the chance. I hope we make up for lost time at some point next year.

4. You scare the shit out of me. Which is maybe why you're the person I use most often as a motif for characters when I write.

5. You are arrogant and empty.

6. Learn to be self-sustaining, it's more dignified.

7. Don't be so hard on yourself, you'll die young of a brain aneurysm if you keep on like this. Relax and enjoy yourself, you're a good person to be just the way you are.

8. I never felt the way you did. I hated you for condemning me for it. I got over it.

9. I cannot decide if you are my opposite or if you are really just everything I wish I could be. Either way, you make me better.

10. You taught me so much about myself. You made me laugh, you made me cry. But I was always, always there, even when I tried not to be. I could never leave you.


Can you figure it out? Or at least, most importantly, do you know which one is yours?

Escapism.

What the hell do I ever talk about in this blog? It seems I talk about nothing in order to avoid talking about everything. My own journals and workbooks seem to go a bit like this too. I can write about everything except what I really mean, I can write about everyone else but never directly about myself. I have fooled myself into believing that I sit down to write in order to deal with things, to think about things, when really, I sit down to write in order to escape. I obviously cannot ever escape my own mind and thoughts so I don't feel too terribly guilty granting myself a little physical escapism in the form of writing every once in awhile.

I sat next to the Chattahoochee River today. It is so hot here that fog literally rises from the river as the water evaporates. But that fog makes it one of the nicest places to be, like natural air conditioner. The coolness of the river and the good conversation may have gone a bit to my head. I have been thinking differently lately, and right now it seems like I really shouldn't give a shit about anything I'm "supposed" to do. You were right today. I'm learning how to just be. And I feel like I should keep working on it, this "just being" thing.

I dreamed last night. Usually, I don't dream very extended or complicated, lucid dreams. But last night was different. In one dream, I dreamt that the North and the South decided to redo the Civil War. Everyone wanted everything to be fair, so they used modern Civil War re-enactment armies for the soldiers. They wore the uniforms and used weapons from 1860. I dreamt about the formations, about how it looked, the camps, the battlefield, everything. General Lafayette, the French hero, was the leader of the Northern armies and, for some reason, Mussolini was the leader of the South. And Mussolini was actually on horseback, leading the charge into battle. I wasn't at the battle, I was sitting at a dinner at the North Druid Hills Country Club in Atlanta, wearing a gown and speaking with a very Southern accent about the prospects of the South actually beating the North this time. And even though I wasn't at the battle, I was still, in my dream, terrified of Mussolini.

Oddly enough, it kind of all makes sense. Even now that I'm awake.

Chez moi

I'm already home. Sitting outside in 38 degree weather, probably getting a sunburn at the moment, eating as much Mexican food as I can possibly fit inside myself, and spending money. Life is good. Home is good. I am happy.

I am partially so happy because leaving college was so nice. I mean, of course it was hard, but I feel like I mostly left everything with closure, like it was all finished and had all been said and done by the time I left. The fact that the week after was amazing helped as well. I really could not have asked for any better.

Tove's was good, a crazy party in a beautiful place and plenty of time to talk and say goodbye. Then Marc and I took a little roadtrip with Adriana and Alex from Goteborg to Malmo which was actually quite nice. From Malmo, Marc and I took the train to Copenhagen where we spent a ridiculously decadent night. One of those nights that you don't forget, that really stays in your head. Every detail was just right: the restaurant, the wine, the food, the city, the cathedrals, everything. And of course, the company wasn't so bad either, haha.

I think I needed to leave the college to really appreciate the person that it made me. The week spent traveling really showed me how much I'd changed, and now being home, I'm happy with the person that I am.

I may have gotten a job, though I'm not sure. I'm quite happy about it, too. I'd be waitressing and bartending at this little upscale Spanish restaurant. I think I will really like it, and I get to speak Spanish. It is funny though that I can bartend but I can't legally drink myself. Oh well.

I think the summer will be interesting and I'm glad I have this time to sort myself before going to Paris. I am so excited for Paris that it's unnatural, I think. I'm not sure if I will ever want to leave :)

Again, thank you for everything. Graduation was perfect, leaving was perfect, traveling was perfect. I haven't been this happy in a long time. Thank you.