Blah, Blah, Blah, every one complains. It's inescapable. But I miss what life was like when I was in France. It was so different, so much more simple. I had friends, and they loved me for who I was, no matter what I did or how I acted. If I was down they comforted me without being invasive. They hugged me and did everything they could to cheer me up. They never asked what was wrong unless I was willing to put forth informatino first. There were no questions like "What's wrong?" "Why aren't you having fun?" "Why are you grumpy?" "Why don't you want to go out?" They would just grab my hand and pull me along and into things they knew I loved so I could lose myself in those things. It was amazing how well they knew me for having known each other for such a short amount of time. I guess it was the intense circumstances and all, and because we all had to start from scratch, and it was hard for all of us at the beginning and we needed each other to get through. I miss that. I'm glad to be home, to have my familly, but at the same time I'm ready for new friends. I'm tired of the ones I have now. They just don't seem to understand me, and it leaves me feeling incrediably lonely. Oh well. It'll get better.


The Sky's Falling

So I'm not a hurricane victem, but emotionally I feel devastated, perhaps not to the extent that they are, but perhaps similar. I feel as if there's no ground beneath my feet, as if my head is spinning 'round and 'round, like I have no future, as if my past was just a story told to me, not actually experienced. It's weird to be back here, at home, the one place I feel moderately grounded, but it feels lacking because I experienced things, met people, made new best friends while I was abroad, and while one goes to my school and I see her occasionally, I desperately miss the daily, constant contact of these people that I imtimately shared my life with. For five months I knew exactly who i was. I never questioned my place or my actions within my group. Now I'm here and for some reason incrediably lost. Actually I kind of get the lostness. I was one person before I left. I was myself while I was gone. Now that I'm home I'm having to reconcile those two things. It's hard. Especially since three of my best friends all went abroad together in another country and don't seem to have really changed at all. So I suppose that's why I burst into tears tonight because my little sister was too drunk to really care about the birthday present I got her. No big deal. It was her 21st. She's supposed to be drunk. I guess I cling too much to such material things. If I were her, I would have kept track of that bag all night, especially if I liked it as much as she seemed to and if I knew it meant as much to her as it meant to me that she like it. But she always seems to find other things, other people, to focus on. No big deal. My fault I suppose. But around certain people she changes into a completely different person, a person I don't like very much. My little sister, the cameleon. Maybe I'll get a new one, one who'll love me.


Goodnight Moon

Something's wrong. I have no idea what, but there is this feeling of ominous occurances that seems to be hovering over my head, my heart, my soul. Like the song lyrics I suppose... "There's a needle in the door, and there's glass on the lawn. Tux on the floor, and the tv's on. But I always sleep with my guns when you're gone. There's a blade by the bed, and a phone in my hand. A dog on the floor and some cash on the nightstand. When I'm all alone the demon stops, and I just can't sing. What should I do? I'm just a little baby. What if the lights go out? And Baby, and then the wind just starts to moan outside the door and follow me home? Now, Goodnight, Moon. I want the sun... Goodnight, Moon. There's a shot at the pool and a witch in the tree. The crazy old neighbor's been watching me, and there's footsteps, loud and strong, coming down the hall. Something's under the bed. Now it's out in the hedge. There's a big, black crow sitting on my window ledge, and I hear something scratching through the wall. Oh, what should I do? I'm just a little baby. What if the lights go out? And Baby, I just hate to be all alone outside the door, and followed me home. Goodnight Moon. I want the sun... Soon I'm out the door. Listen until I say Goodnight, Moon." By Shivaree from Kill Bill I think. Anyway, I definately didn't write those lyrics but they kind of fit how I feel. A bit of that mixed with Poe's "Haunted" lyrics, ya know, from the soundtrack for the book "House of Leaves" which also gives me the creeps. Maybe Sleep will be merciful to me tonight and come swiftly.


Dying Love

Feeling love die is an awkward thing. What do you do when you thought


Salsa Strangers

On this, my first weekend in France, I partied with some of the first people I met. Since I live in an international dorm that means non-French people. That's all fine and dandy. No big deal. I think it's cool to get to meet people not from my own country, although it's very comforting to have all the Americans here that are here. So I went and partied with the Spaniards I met. Let me tell you, if you want to party hard, party with people from Spain. I've never partied so hard in my life, nor for so long. I was dead tired by the time the night was over. But to the point of my blog. The Salsa.

Spanish Dancing has always appealed to me. It seems to have this mystery to it, this passion, that is very, very attractive. So when one of my new Spanish aquantances offered to teach me, I said what the hell, why not? I'm not sure if I salsed or did the grope dance. I've never had anyone dance so close to me and in such a way. I really am not sure if he was just dancing with me or if was groping me. How does one tell with Europeans anyway? I have no idea.

Anyone got a clue?


Breaking the Cardinal Rule

My best friend left me for a boy. Sounds pretty common right? But why is it that so many women break the cardinal rule of sisterhood/friendship? I mean, every girl knows that to take time that is dedicated to your girlfriends and use that stolen time to go on dates is wrong in the worst sense. It doesn’t matter whether he’s Mr. Right or Mr. Right-Now. Girlfriends stay through it all, even when Mr. Right-Now leaves you high, dry, and terribly messy. So why do women break this rule? My best friend, for instance, has had so many man-troubles that she knows the value of friendship, and on top of that she knows that I’m leaving the country for six months. And who does she waste my precious last minutes with? The sort-of boyfriend. What is it about men that makes women sacrifice their friendships for?


So... my first blog not class oriented

So, this would be my first nonclass oriented blog. I'm hoping that this'll be a fun experience, and that it'll be as cool as everyone says. So leave me comments! = ) Just kidding. So anyway. Blogging sounds like tons of fun. It seems that most everyone on college campuses does it, so I'm playing at being one of the masses. OOO... fun huh. Anyway. So much for my first post. Ciao!