WHAAAAA, no college, ever, should cost that much money. And I chose one that does.
I will already be in Argentina two weeks from now. My feelings on the matter have shifted over time. I think they started as a distant excitement. Then I tried to be proactive about my excitement. Eventually it faded and I ignored the whole situation as I focused on being back in California. Then I bought a guide book and didnt really read any of it. I continued to ignore it. Then today I looked to see that two weeks from yesterday I'm boarding a plane. Now I feel terrified, trapped, and not excited. Not how I expected/want to feel. I feel extremely overwhelmed at how expensive its going to be and how much I want to just stay here and relax. Unrealistic.
I'm a bit annoyed at myself for being in such a terrible mood.
This morning I pulled a too-upset-and-lazy-to-get-out-of-bed. And so I finally got up at 1215 though I had first woken up hours before. On the one hand, these past few weeks I have felt extremely grateful and happy about my life. And I've felt like a truly optimistic person. But right now I am extremely bitter about
a) Where I live (in terms of living in two houses)
b) Certain relationships around me
c) How expensive everything is compared to the money I have
I feel very uncertain. I feel trapped into the next year of my life. I am going to Argentina (and I will like it god damnit!), I go back to Boston and have an apartment (with 4 people I love), I will be there over the summer (and I need to find an awesome job)... I wonder if I will miss "home" terribly, if I will stay as extremely close to the people here (as I now feel I am)...
Now I am going to continue to be in denial as I go meet up with Nate and spend time with him before he goes to start REAL LIFE.
I'm so proud of my friends.
love.love.love.

1 comment:
I'm sort of reading all your posts in reverse order because of impatience, and it makes it feel sort of mysterious, like Memento.
Also, how I wish I were the Nate you were referring to. Fantasizing about it now.
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