Los Amantes del Circulo Polar

Three things.

First. Loose ends. I'm done with them. They do nothing but entangle me, so I'm done with holding on to them just because I've always been too scared of the possibility of actually losing them. Losing things is okay. I don't feel like I always have to win anymore. It doesn't always have to all make sense. I don't always have to like it. But I can always be myself, always act according to the things I believe in most, always be graceful and dignified. In that way, I don't really lose anything at all.

Second. An apology. A deep, sincere, apology. Now, don't you all go thinking that I don't actually have the maturity and go and apologize in person. I already have. I'm just thinking of this apology a lot. What it means, to go and put yourself out there, vulnerable and emotionally naked, and admit that you are sorry. Well, I am. And I have done that. And it's terrible, because I've been the person on the receiving end of this. I've been left empty. I know what it is to fall apart, I know what it is to watch everything you want slip away no matter what you do. I know it. I feel it. No one deserves it, it is unfair, and it breaks my heart that that is the way things are. I want it to be different. But. It's not.

Third. I spoke to someone tonight. Just a random, probably meaningless conversation. But it made me realize how incredibly lucky I am. Because I know I have something that is full of meaning. Something that I don't have to be sad about, something I don't have to dramatize, something I don't have to question. I have my rock. Every walk, every cigarette, every brush of hands, every stolen kiss, every drink shared, every dinner made, every dance enjoyed, every smile, every phone call, every thought....the depth of the reality of these things hit me tonight. The simple fact that they are real is powerful. And because of that, I am so lucky. Thank you.

"Se que estas lejos de aqui, sonriendo sin reir, escribiendo algo para mi."

Que si, que si.

We spent the day watching America's Next Top Model. Then, we were all inspired to dress up like slutty debutantes and crash the Saturday party. We got crazy to reggaeton, salsa, 80s music, and especially "Noche de Sexo", which is in a category all its own. Danced some more at the afterparty, where we also got bit by Salvatore (don't ask). Became properly sweaty before finally venturing back to the room, only after the last song was played at around 2:00 in the morning. Everyone piled into my corner and sat around gossiping while eating dried fruit and cheese (the only things we had). And now, all of my roommates are passed out in their own beds (amazingly). Except for Andres, who fell asleep on our couch in about two seconds.

All in all, I'd say that this is perfection.

Closure.

An interesting topic. Do we always need it? Can life continue unrestrained if we don't find it, in every situation? Even if I'm not bothered by something, not haunted by it, not consciously aware of it, the coming of closure always provides a most welcome relief. It's like having a weight lifted off of you that you had become so accustomed to that you forgot you were even carrying it. So while you carry this weight, you may not notice it. But once it is gone, you feel lighter. You didn't notice it when it was bad (maybe) but then when it becomes resolved, you definitely notice the good.

I just read over this whole blog. I write an insane amount. It's just so...comforting. And it's nice to read over everything and realize that sometimes, I might actually have intelligent things to say. Now I just need to start taking my own advice.

I often wonder if I sound pretentious. I fear that I do. All broody and dramatic and all in strange English. I don't mean to be. I mean to be honest.

Everything has just begun to align. The reason for my musings on closure are that, I've come to decide, that perhaps I have to learn how to live with loose ends. Perhaps I have to learn how to participate in a knock-'em-down, drag-'em-out fight for a long time. Is that enough, to realize that closure may never happen?

I've noticed today that what bothers me is a general lack of respect for history. Now this is all kinds of history. It is political history, when people fail to see the nuances of an issue because they don't understand where it arose from. It is experiential history, when people fail to cease doing something even though the past shows it should not be done. It is social history, when people fail to recognize the histories of others, the memories and the pasts and the moments of others and simply choose to act upon however they feel at that point in time, regardless of the mountains of things other people have built up both for each other and for themselves. It is personal history, when people fail to learn from themselves. A general lack of history. I feel it as a constant annoyance.

A quote, from an earlier blog, but that is important. I still love the quote from yesterday, though.

"If we overcome space, then all we have left is here. And if we overcome time, then all we have left is now. And in the middle of here and now, don't you think we'll see each other once or twice?"-Jonathan Livingston Seagull

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.