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.

The aftermath (but not really)

So, that last post was angry. But Elisabeth with a late night cigarette gave me some perspective on the whole thing. As did leaving campus. So it's alright. I apologize for my public internet rantings and ravings.

Yes, I've left. There's nothing to say now. Am I bitter about some things (or just one thing?)? Yes, obviously. But am I ridiculously excited for the life I have in front of me, the life I'm living right now? Yes and yes.

I didn't cry as much as I thought I would. I think that's because I feel like I deserved to leave, I deserve the life that I'm working out for myself. The past two years have been long and hard and I've earned the right to set out in the real world, surround myself only with the people I truly care about, forget about the rest, and just be myself. It's wonderful.

I'm sitting in bed with Raine, trying to fall asleep. Downstairs, there are about 20 of my co-years. Sweden is sunny and warm and full of good things. Party tomorrow, and then off to Copenhagen with Marc. God, I love life sometimes.

I will write more from home. Maria and Katherine, anything I could say also goes unsaid. There aren't enough words, and I've emailed you a million times already. Sebastian, Hanna, everyone else, I will email you when I'm back home. Take care of yourselves and enjoy that place while you own it.

Thank you for everything. It's been amazing.

"Voici les cles de ton bonheur..."

Now I'll go sleep next to my best friend, wake up tomorrow surrounded by even more of them, drive around Swedish country roads, dance the afternoon away, then drink white wine as the sun sets.

Thank you thank you thank you.

Never You Mind

I've almost finished my exams. In fact, in exactly 9 hours, I will be entirely finished with the IB. Strange, two years of work will all be finished tomorrow.

And what do I feel? Relieved, obviously. Happy. Exhausted. Exams have been annoying and tiring. Not especially difficult, just a pain in my ass. Maybe I haven't done my best, but I haven't done my worst either. So that's okay.

The end is coming up so quickly. I can't believe that this is me, that I am now what my second years were last year. I can't believe I'm here, ready to walk out of this place in a matter of days. It seems impossible, but it also seems right. It needs to happen.

The end does, however, beg the question: how do you want to be remembered? Apparently, some of you wish to be remembered as gossip-mongering liars (oh, that was harsh). But it's true. I am so disappointed with so many people. I am actually in disbelief, I am shocked that any of you could and do believe something so illogical and ridiculous and stupid.

I'm going to be honest, it hurts. It hurts that people would rather lie about something at my expense just so they have something to talk about. It hurts that people can speak behind my back but not to my face. It hurts that everyone is so quick to assume that I am a certain way even though if you all took a minute to consider everything, to consider me, you would think differently. It hurts because only very few people know that I couldn't do such a thing even if I wanted to. So all of you gossiping about it, laughing about it, judging it...you should take a second to consider how absolutely painful it is for me. You are judging something that I am literally incapable of. And all of you make it so much worse. You are adding insult to injury.

This is part of the reason why I am ready to leave. I feel like I have outgrown this place. I feel that I really cannot be bothered with the high school gossip and the back-stabbing and the strange alliances any more. I want to be back in the real world where people think normally and clearly and for themselves. I love Flekke but to be honest, it is full of far too many sheep (both literally and figuratively).

Now this may all sound harsh or bitter, but I guess it's really not. It is the truth, but I am not exactly angry about it. Instead, I would say that I'm sad about it. It is sad to realize that two years have come to this, that some people have not grown up very much at all. It is sad that so many of you want to be remembered like this. It is sad because I have cared so much, because I have believed in all of you, and it apparently hasn't amounted to shit with any of you.

I guess in the end, we all reveal our true selves.

"Are you sorry that you treat me unkind? Never you mind. Are you sorry that you wasted our time? Never you mind."

Oh Semisonic, thank you for writing the soundtrack for this exact moment.

Contemplaciones y Mensajes

Yo se que no puedo escribir poesia o literatura en espanol. Pero voy a trater de escribir un poco. Pienso que puedo expresarme un poco en espanol. Somos diferentes en cada idioma, si? Y para este tema, necesito espanol.

Hay personas en este mundo quienes son diferentes. Hay personas en cada vida quienes afectan mucho en cualquier sitio en cualquier momento.

Nuestros corazones son mugrientos con el suciedad del mundo. Cualquier persona tiene una polvareda de su corazon roto. Pero hay personas quienes pueden limpiar el polvo, el mugre, de nuestros corazones. No vamos a esperarlas. Pero son nuestros amores, en el sentido romantico pero en otros sentidos tambien. Los limpiadores de nuestros corazones son la gente que infunde nuestras vidas con razon. Y eso es lo unico que importa. Un poco es mas vale que nada.

Esas personas son esas que recordamos. Es probable que el mundo no va a recordarte. Pero si una persona, un corazon, te recuerdo? Eso es todo que es necesario.

Hace diecinueve meses aqui. Mi corazon estaba roto. Mi corazon estaba reparado. Y en el tiempo intermedio, aprendia mucho. Aunque hay personas que se quedan y hay personas que no se quedan, personas que rompia y personas que reparaba...no puedo olivdar que me ensenaban. No puedo olivdar algo como eso.

Y si tu te quedas todavia, te prometo: te voy a recordar despues de este sitio. Y me vas a infundir con razon, con esperanza, con confianza siempre.

Lost In Translation

I've just realized that any normal person coming across my blog would think that I hate this place and that I am a very unhappy person. That is not the case. We're always hardest on the ones (and places) we love, yeah? I mean, if I wasn't irredeemably tied to this place and its people, I don't think I would find it so easy to criticize everything. So the point is, although I might sound all doomsday/fire and brimstone-like, I'm not. I do care about things. And because I care about them, I'm emotional about them. I'm just afraid that the only impression I give is that I'm emotional and that I fail to convey the caring and meaning behind all of it.

It generally seems like we misinterpret a lot of things. It is this horrible, permanent language barrier caused by the fact that we all speak our own languages. I'm not referring to the problem of me speaking English as a first language and you speaking Russian or Spanish or Arabic as a mother tongue...I'm talking about the fact that we all have our own language that we speak with ourselves. And this language is one that we are completely incapable of teaching to others, one that we fumble to translate into spoken words. But that's the problem. It's always a translation. It's never what you actually mean, it's just a good approximation of it. I know this sounds like a bad summary of Wittgenstein's musings on private language, but it's true. We are always translating ourselves and, as all of us at this multilingual school know, there are always things that get lost in translation.