Unrequited.

I love that there are some words in English that you cannot help but associate with other words, other meanings. Just like, no matter what, "bereft" always brings about the image of a woman standing on a pier watching her lover sail off in some ship while she waves a handkerchief in the wind. Does that make any sense? Do you know what I'm talking about? The word in the title of this entry is one of those words. I love it.

Schoolwork is finally finishing up. After MUN is done, I truly have nothing else to think of besides exams. And getting into university. It's amazing. I thought all this work was never going to have an end, but now it's finally ending. I guess that's what these two years are like; you never actually imagine them having an end but eventually, they do.

It's weird to write things like this and not know who reads them. I mean, there's the usual suspects, but I'm sure there's a couple of randomers who read this every once in awhile or something and that's a bit strange. I guess I always have a desire to have a dialogue about something rather than just feel like I'm doing all the talking. In that case, a blog is apparently not a good thing, too much lack of dialogue.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow, and for no particular reason. I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep, for no particular reason. I'm looking forward to PBL, for lots of reasons. I'm also looking forward to lots of things after PBL for even more lots of reasons. It's a nice feeling, to enjoy both the present and the future.

There's only one loose end in my life, yet to be tied up. I wish something would happen with it. Not that it necessarily needs to be tied up (can it possibly be?), just that it would be nice for something to happen. Stagnation is for the boring, mediocre, and lazy. And I am not any of those.

"To hunt for love is haughty falconry." -the quote of the day. Think about it.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Last year, I hated Sundays. They were boring. They were full of unbrushed teeth and sweatpants
and chainsmoking. They're still full of those things.

I'm sitting around, mixing up crazy coffee drinks with powdered chestnuts and Nesquik and leche condensada with my roommates. We're complaining about how dirty the room is, how disgusting we all feel, how tired we are, and how quickly this weekend flew by. There's half-eaten food everywhere, we're having problems translating soup-making instructions from Norwegian to English, and there's a slow, Sunday kind of rain falling outside.

The difference is that this year, I feel like sitting here, laying around with my half-asleep best friends bitching about how the only coffee we have in the room is decaf...I feel like this, right here, is heaven.

Diario de una Pasion

I came back from classes and slept from one until seven today. Not such a good idea.

What do you write about when everything is going well? When there's no drama or angst or whatever. Is anything good written by happy people? If I look over the books lined up on my desk and skim through my iTunes library, it seems like the really important stuff, the classic, artful things were all written by tormented authors or are about dark things. It's actually tragic that I find less to write about when I'm happy and contented than I do when I'm being emotional and crazy.

"It wasn't perfect. Oh, they fought all the time. They contradicted each other about everything. But they had one very important thing in common, and that was that they were both absolutely crazy about each other."-The Notebook

I still can't sleep. I'm quite restless. Too much happiness but no one else is awake.

It's good to be...

at college.
happy.
sane.
normal.
dignified.
gracious.
apologetic.
tan.
optimistic.
hopeful.

And So It Is.

If you have any desire to know what has happened to me over the past four to five days, read the below passage. If not, skip over the following paragraph.

After finally sorting out a visa issue through much yelling in Spanish and gesticulating (hey, at least my Spanish has improved exponentially) I finally had confirmed that I would be flying from Montevideo, Uruguay, all the way to Madrid, Spain, on Thursday, the 10th. The flight would be overnight, so maybe I would get a minimal amount of sleep. Not so. I was carrying a rosary in my purse and the Spanish woman next to me saw it and asked if she could use it on the flight, that is how bumpy and scary it was. Oh well. At least I had an entire day in Madrid to look forward to, as my flight from Madrid to Oslo didn't leave until 8:00 on the night of the 11th. I get off in Madrid and somehow manage to store up my 70 kilos of luggage (Try figuring out a Spanish locker system while some crazy woman stands around yelling at you to "usa la ficha!". Now I know what a "ficha" is.). I made it to the Metro and amazed myself by actually doing everything right and getting myself to Plaza Sol. It was pouring rain. I was scared of getting lost. I took a couple very fast pictures and then ran my ass into the nearest cafe. There, I managed to order a sandwich and a cup of very nice tea and proceeded to eat, drink, and chainsmoke while reading the rest of Wuthering Heights. I spent a good 4 hours in said cafe before I finally got up the courage to brave the rain and head back to the airport. Back at the airport, I had to deal with "ficha" woman once again and then discover that my flight to Oslo had been delayed for two hours. I met another girl while waiting for the plane, a 19 year old Norwegian who studied in Spain. We got along quite well and spent the time showing each other pictures of our travels and eating sandwiches her mother had made. This was good, as up to this point, the only food I had eaten since Thursday was at the cafe (I hate plane food) and I had about 4 Euros in my pocket at this point. So, free food, nice conversation. Took sleeping pills on the flight to Oslo which made me have the most insane, lucid dreams ever. It is not nice to have a nightmare and then wake up on a little shaky plane. Get to Oslo, I have 13 hours at the airport until I fly to Bergen. I went and found some hippie backpackers, and the four of us strapped all of our luggage together and laid down in a corner and went to sleep. They even lent me a blanket, and I had the lovely travel pillow that Jon gave me, so I slept quite well. Woke up on the 12th and checked in to my flight to Bergen, which was also delayed. I fell asleep at the gate only to wake up to a flight attendant shaking me and rambling in Norwegian. I realized I had to jump up and run on the plane before it left without me. Got to Bergen, made it to the Ferry Station. Ferry Station was closed. The schedule said the next boat was at 4:30 pm, so I decided to wait. I got a cup of coffee and sat around for two hours, then went back to the station. No boat. I asked a sailor/worker and he told me that it was the off-season and therefore the normal schedule didn't apply. I promptly began to cry. Phone calls to my parents, my roommates, and Marc ended with me checking into the Strand Hotel in Bergen. I ordered a pizza and spent the night watching the Discovery Channel and half working on some essays. Slept like a baby and woke up 30 minutes before I had to check out. I had the fastest shower of my life and ran downstairs. I had them call the ferry company to confirm that a boat was leaving today and then I guess that they felt pity on me, because the gave me a card to have free access to their wireless internet and told me to go up into their (closed) restaurant, help myself to a cup of coffee, and amuse myself online until my ferry came. So that is where I find myself at the moment. With a cup of Kantine-grade coffee and free wireless in the middle of an entirely empty restaurant overlooking the fish market. It's actually quite nice. Very surreal, but I'm very grateful.

In 3 hours, I'll be back on a boat to that school. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Maybe if I get some more work done now, things will be okay. And if I remember that I don't have to do everything all at once when I get back. I just need to take my time. Get my head on straight. Remind myself that I am actually a normal person and that I will make it out of all of this alive.

I've done a lot of reading over the break. And a lot of writing. It has sorted my head out entirely. Now maybe when I go back to college, I will get insane again. But at least for the moment, I am at peace. I know where I stand. I don't know if I know what I want, but I know how I feel right now, and that is enough.

Uruguay was amazing. More on that to come. For now, I'll enjoy my solitude, bad coffee, and Historical Investigation.

Uruguay part one

I am not dead. To the contrary, I'm doing quite well. I've even figured out this Spanish keyboard now.

Montevideo is beautiful in the summer time. Wonderful beaches and long nights spent sitting outside of restaurants overlooking the water and drinking cocktails with amazing people. Juanma, Rochelle, Disa, Elise, Lorena, Maja, Isabel. Olivia and Jon soon to come. It is surreal. And just about perfect.

I love this city, I love this vacation, I love this group, I love this food, but I do not love...

Hm.

All I want for Christmas is.

And so that's the end of that. I'll be leaving in just about a day. And it always tears me apart, having so many "homes" like this. Because home has really become about the people who are in a certain place and I have too many people in too many certain places. And leaving each of them is equally hard, no matter how much I love the place I am going to next. So I've found that the best way to leave is to cry my eyes out, get through security at whatever God-forsaken airport I'm at (unless it's Amsterdam, that's a freaking nice airport), and then call someone. Call up the next person I'll be seeing and hear from them so that I can get all excited about that and forget about leaving. Because once I actually get through the "leaving" part, everything is fine. It's just actually getting my ass out of this country that is extremely, extremely painful.

I won't think about all that home has been just yet. I'll do that once I get back to college and have a chance to breathe and figure out what has happened to me in the past month.

I miss everyone and everything that is not here, and I feel like I already miss everyone and everything here as well. Merry Christmas, even to Jewish people like Maria and semi-Wiccan hippies like Raine. I hope it was bliss for everyone.

Oh, and I'm not filling in that blank. You can.