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Wednesday. 4.18.12 1:42 am

After I pay the security deposit on the house I'm leasing, all the money I make is going towards a trip abroad. No ties to the college, no family trips--I am leaving the country alone, and making my own way through a location of my choosing.

This summer, it will be the Appalachian Trail, and all sorts of other hiking excursions. A lot of people hate summer hiking because you get soaked from the humidity and sweating in the summer heat, but I think it's great. Drinking water feels so much better when it's ice cold and you can feel the thirst in the pit of your stomach.

I just resigned from my second job, for the summer. And I'm cutting off romantic ties with someone, for good...which I should have done a year ago. I just finally realized that I'm limiting myself too much. Both of these choices sting, and they sting a bunch, but I'm perfectly aware of the fact that, no matter what the outcomes, I'm better off not having that job, this summer, and I'm better off not even wanting him.

My friends will most definitely expect me to relapse, but I've been thinking about this for a good solid month or two, now--or, less "this," and more myself. I've been thinking about what I expect out of my life, and I'm just not there at all!

It is terribly true that, for a young woman of college age, with my basic financial means taken care of (uh, sort of), there is no need to complicate things with choices that don't represent things I want in my life.

This will be easy, and then it will be difficult, and then it will tear me apart, and then it will be over and I will still exist.

And that is all.

This summer will be a summer for rebounding, traveling, not working (and then working--I still have one job, but they provide housing), neuropsychology (my nose tickles because I want to cry, sometimes, when I realize that I actually get to study what I love), and getting over my fear of saltwater in the eyes (which has kept me from surfing for FAR too long).

IT WILL ALSO PROBABLY SUCK A LOT, some days! I can guarantee that, some days, I will still think that everything is terrible and my world is ending and apocalypse apocalypse SOMEONE JUST LET ME DIE ALREADY, but I refuse to make it seem like my anticipation for the rest of the summer is trivializing the sucky parts!


So I'm excited. Excited and ready for a good rest.

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rant rant rant stop calling my minor easy
Monday. 4.16.12 10:41 am

Exams are this week and next. They aren't hard, and I say this in relativity to all other undergrad semesters. My Spanish instructor has been urging me to be a Spanish minor. I am, I am, geez.

I hate how society feels about Spanish. I hate that most intellectuals I know consider it to be too common to be difficult or interesting. The Spanish culture is so RICH, and so interesting, and so full of wonderful literary works that are best read in their native form.

Our best Spanish instructor came and listened to my presentation on a famous Hispanic celebrity (talk about pressure), the other week. I'd chosen to present on Pablo Neruda, who was a wonderful Chilean poet (he died in 1973). He was quite involved with politics, as well, but that's another story. The instructor waited for me to finish and asked if I had a favorite poem by him. Most others that presented didn't actually enjoy their celebrities' works, but I immediately blurted out, "Ah, Vastedad de los Pinos."

She found that interesting, for some reason. All his poems are sensual, so I don't feel like it gave any indication that another of his poems wouldn't have. Maybe she didn't recognize the name and just acted interested to react somehow.

Either way, my point is that she said something that hit the nail on the head for about ninety-eight percent of all Hispanic authors/poets; she said, basically (and I say basically because I'm saying it in English, which she did not), that his poems are beautiful in English...but they're devastatingly beautiful in Spanish.

I get learning Latin for medical school. I totally get it. But Latin, just a PS, IS A DEAD LANGUAGE. It's the antisocial way to get a leg up. You want to be able to help the greatest number of people in the United States that you can? Learn to speak Spanish. If it's really that easy, it shouldn't be inconvenient to plop it on top of studying Latin.


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Thursday. 4.12.12 1:49 am


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Tuesday. 4.3.12 1:45 am


The first things will obviously be a bed, a mattress, some sheets, a desk, and a wardrobe. After that, hopefully I can work my way into affording a rabbit and two finches. Rabbits aren't too costly, once you pay for their initial housing; they need pellets, hay, veggies, fruits, and something in the litterbox. Apparently, the most costly part is going to be buying the bunny toys.

...So bunnies are weird.

But, I feel kind of akin to them, since I'm big on veggies with a tasty little fruit snack, and I get bored if I don't have something to fiddle with. Apparently, bunnies also like slinkies.

That makes two of us.

(Side note: If anyone gets me a slinky for my birthday, I AM THROWING IT AWAY. I like playing with slinkies, but let me be clear, I DO NOT LIKE OWNING THEM.)

Anyway, the finches are sort of more of a comfort thing. I love the sound of birds chirping, when I wake up, and finches can be so sweet and tender with humans. And let's not even get into how AWESOME it is that birds are technically dinosaurs.

I have a nice window, in the corner of my room, so I'll probably hang the cage of finches there and have the bunny nearby.

Let's stop for a moment and reflect on how amazing my living situation is about to be. Obviously I can't SEE THE EIFFEL TOWER FROM IT (ahem), but it's okay for a twenty-year-old undergrad.

Life's going pretty well. I'm kind of overwhelmed, right now, because I have so much to do before school gets out...and then it only gets crazier. The moment I stop doing exam-y things, I'm moving into the new place, and then I'm off to Florida for a couple days to volunteer at the Special Olympics with a small group of friends, and then I'm working oh just CONSTANTLY. But it's okay, because I walked out of one of the guest bedrooms at the B&B where I'm a housekeeper, looked over the balcony onto my beautiful, beautiful city, and teared up a little, so I know all this crazy stress is worth it.

Not a lot of my life is within my control. I don't have total financial independence from my parents; and I don't want to be in a relationship, usually, but when I do, it's with someone who also never wants to commit (so despite the chemistry, nothing, which frustrates me on a regular basis, because I don't often want to be in that situation). I'm always feeling pressured by my parents to make decisions that make them happy, too, which honestly has way too much bearing on what I do with my life. I only recently started defying what they wanted on a large scale.

Coming here was the first big choice I made all for myself. And, sure, there have been several other choices, since then, that have held about the same amount of weight, and I won't say that all of them have had pretty results. But, every time I realize that I'm doing what I want to be doing, I get really freaking emotional. Talk about repression, right? They tell me I'm Irish; I believe them.

It's just really great to be here, making choices for myself.

If you got this far through my rambles, you've earned this.

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