It is difficult to know one's own mind. I should add this to my portfolio, or make a second portfolio so that it's some kind of series. First offering: It is difficult to say that I love you. Second offering: It is difficult to know my own mind. Probably that would be a great hit.
I'm worried. Those two weeks of travel at the end of the semester? It is hard for me to cope without alone time. On vacations one seldom gets alone time of any kind. And when I do not get alone time I get pretty cranky. Also, I will be traveling with three extroverts. Hmm. Difficult.
Also: Stone carving. It's kicking my butt. My muscles are acclimating (my joints unfortunately are not), but my work pace has slowed to a crawl, and I am having a heck of a time picking out all the forms that need to exist by the end of this week. My fellow students have become vivid cautionary tales of what happens when you try to rush it with the wrong tools: big chunks of stuff break off irreparably. It's scary to watch. A lot of swears have been flying around the studio lately ("Tompkins said a swear!").
On an up note, it was great to have Lucy come out and visit. It made me miss the rest of my school friends really a lot. I can't wait to have girly tea-time with you again/eat dinner/have a geeky conversation/Pro Tempore/take long walks/pretend to have a study party but really just a normal party. . .
It is funny how one piece of mail can be so important feeling. i didn't expect this particular piece of mail at all, I was completely surprised. I've always abhorred/laughed at people whose blog posts are all ambiguous and mysterious, and they don't really tell you what's going on, but they allude portentiously to events in the background. Well, here I am, doing the same thing, at least sort of. I got mail. It felt important. In one way, that really is the entirety of the story. To get all of it, you may have needed to be around for the past nine years (or since my birth).
I didn't realize that in having a boyfriend I was taking such a huge step away from the way I'd ordered my life before. Of course, I didn't realize that in coming to Italy I was taking such a huge step away from the way I'd ordered my life before. I guess what freaks me the hell out about going back home is trying to incorporate all these changes into my real life. That is, I realize I will have to give certain things up in order to keep certain good things about my life right now, but I also want to keep the good things of my life before. So it's complicated. I wish that I could revert back to being 18 when I felt more like I could bluff my way through things, but at 20 I've started to realize just how little I know. Is this what's called adulthood?
I'm sure I will be more optimistic with my life when stone carving is done, never fear. I think it must just be the physical discomfort of life right now which is pushing me over the edge of "complicated" and into the realm of "angst." Or maybe it's just the craziness of study abroad in general which is the most stretching experience I've ever had, and not just stretching but pushing and pulling and punching. Study abroad also fights dirty, and throws in a few bites and scratches. Be warned.
I meant that to sound kind of wryly humorous, but probably it just sounded depressed. Sorry.
Anyway, I've got to go back to the convent, because it is nearly curfew time. Keep me in mind, please, these last few weeks. I feel rather crushed at the thought of . . . well, just about everything involving concentration or intelligent effort. It's one of those days.