done with papers, done with exams, ergo done with third year since something like Tuesday.

leaving for the beach tomorrow. forecast--scattered thunderstorms, but warm after Monday. the dryer is humming through my last load of clothing, there is a stack of things to go in the car by the door. my running shoes are not among them. bringing them feels pointless.


I turn 21 in 18 days,
I leave for Rome in 28.

I just wrote this sentence. I didn’t think about it at all; I would like to make that very clear.

Ha guardato per un momento, scosso la testa, e pointed at the door.

I'm going to be in Rome for Christmas. I'm leaving Lisbon today, in approximately...not enough hours to get everything that I have to get done, done.

Rome is such a stereotypical place to go for Christmas, right? But I'm doing it anyway. The crowds will be hellacious, it is 50 degrees Fahrenheit in Lisbon and 39 in Rome (but 49 in Milan, where I'm flying into), and...I don't know. I'm doing this.

Oh, I remember. I don't speak Italian anymore. Problem? Possible answers include yes, yes, or yes.

Oh, making resolutions.

Here's some more truth: I'm knuckled under by midterms right now. I don't have time for anything else and this is making me so, so angry. I didn't come to Lisbon to sit in my bedroom writing essays.

Here are the reasons I never post anymore.

I don't have Internet access at home, so I don't really "waste time on the Internet" anymore. I "answer emails while waiting for Facebook pictures to upload." That's as close as I get. (Reading football pages no longer counts as wasting time.)

And also, as importantly--guys, I do all of this crazy stuff. I run around Lisbon, Portugal with a map and a ragged black notebook. I make friends with men selling vintage sunglasses at flea markets. I, I don't know, I see all of these incredible things and have all of these experiences and I keep thinking: tonight I will write, in a word document, a post that will sum up my semester so far.

We can all see how well that's going. So from now on I'm going to try to write more frequently, even if they aren't amazing posts. (It's not like I ever made amazing well thought out posts anyway.)

Right now the morning rain has burned off and I've almost finished my pot of tea. The pop music this place plays on loop has started getting on my nerves, and I have to go home and start writing one of the five papers I have due next week. What a waste of time, right?

I'M GOING TO THE LISBON DERBY.


NOSEBLEED SEATS BUT WHATEVER, BABY: THIS IS THE WAY TO POP MY EUROPEAN FOOTBALL CHERRY.

ola a todo! I'm not dead, I just don't have access to the Internet.


I'll put together a more legitimate post at some point. Promise. Now I need to get out of this internet cafe before the lunch rush starts. I've been getting some, ahem, "salty looks" from the staff, which should tell you something about how long I've been parked here--this is Europe, for god's sake.

I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm almost packed. Hanna's making it rain. Project was canceled, so I don't have anything to do but sit here, staring at my half-full suitcase and think of ways to make it lighter. (I'm out.) I can't think of much more than that right now.

AND YOU MEAN IT, BECAUSE IN ELEVEN (11) DAYS I GET ON A PLANE FOR EUROPE??

HAHA, OH FUCK.

NAO FALO PORTUGUES. NAO TENHO DINHEIRO.

SOMEHOW I BOUGHT A PLANE TICKET FOR THREE DAYS BEFORE MY PROGRAM ENDS. (I WOULD SAY THAT IN PORTUGUESE BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW.) CHANGING IT COSTS $200. I WAS PLANNING ON DOING THAT AND TRAVELING, BUT THEN I REALIZED HOW FUCKING BROKE I AM. FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK




(CLASSES AT UVA STARTED TODAY. THAT'S WHY I'M IN UR FRIENDSLIST, HAVIN A BREAKDOWN. ILU GUYS. SORRY FOR BREAKING YOUR FACES WITH MY EMOTIONS.)

Really? Really?

I can feel the angsty S&K fic coming on. Seriously. I feel it.

So, guys. Instead of getting ready to leave the country I've been writing (wait for it) swimming slash. SHOCKER. [Actually, this is kind of a monster. It has no thematic unity and inconsistent characterization and one perspective and poor pacing culininating in a rushed ending and um, hackneyed plot devices and and probably no emotional realism but guess what? Fiction writing, you can suck my dick. I had fun writing this.]

ALSO. I had a HUGE FUCKING CRUSH on Jeremy Wariner in Athens. Now NBC is showing me that he's putting on his sunglasses to HIDE HIS TEARS. I BLEED. Screw you, LaShawn Merritt. But David Neville? Straight baller. YOU DIVE TO THAT TRACK; GO HEAD AND WIN YOUR BRONZE MEDAL.


( Right at Home, Michael Phelps/Ryan Lochte. )

I...have an iPod? Touch? My mom just bought a MacBook and it was a freebie. I don't really know what's up with this sleek little black thing sitting next to me. It contains music, my gmail account, an updated and detailed calender, and is connected to my house's wireless network. I do not know what else to make of it. Any pretensions that I ever had were limited to nanos and, more realistically, shuffles; the only things I've ever wanted from my entirely hypothetical Future iPod have been 1. playing music in the gym and 2. playing music in the car. NOW I HAVE THIS. THING. WHICH WILL REFRESH MY EMAIL AUTOMATICALLY EVERY 25 MINUTES AND ALLOW ME TO LOOK AT MY STOCK AND CHECK THE WEATHER IN CUPERTINO, CA. CUPERTINO? WHAT THE FUCK. WHERE IS THAT. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO CHANGE IT. THIS SHIT IS SO FAR OUTSIDE MY COMFORT ZONE AND TECHNOLOGICAL ABILITY IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY.

what am I going to weaaarrrrrr tonight guysssssss I just don't knowwww

blue belted dress?
high waisted navy skirt with, I don't know, white shirt and belt?
high waisted jeans skirt with blue tank top?
skinny jeans with black low-backed shirt?
skinny jeans with...something else?

life's most important question: y/y, also: irrelevant until I get my ass off the Internet and into the shower because my hair is vile right now.

guys! I want to go somewhere this summer. does anyone have suggestions? it has to be in the U.S. and it has to be cheap. other than that I don't know. (currently under consideration: Charleston, Miami, Boston, New Orleans, Stanford.)

downloading large quantities of music = my game plan for the day. (in lieu of moving out of my apartment.) (this would be so I'm not doing it at one o'clock Thursday morning, the other option.)


[I'm scared of tonight. one of my resolutions for this summer, loosely kept, has been to do at least one thing a day that I'm afraid to do. you wouldn't think it's so difficult to walk into a party you have been invited to, which is full of people that you know. but I know I'm going to have to get fucking plastered down the street before I can make myself go.]

[so all of the possibilities for tonight are bad, or they aren't. I don't know.]

I had a boring weekend, for once: I saw mostly friends from college [Saturday: the "Tour de Franzia," running through an apartment from bag of wine to bag of wine. I was on Team Italy, and we did things like lock the doors and hide the bags.] and people from work only in a calm, daytime, and alcohol-free setting. I have a phone again. I finally sucked it up and ordered a new camera. So things are good, I guess.

I made my schedule today for my sixth week at work, out of nine. This summer is passing so quickly that I almost can't believe it. Despite all of the whining about my children I'm having a blast: I like being with the kids ten thousand times more than I thought I would, and with a few exceptions I like all of my co-workers. We're like a family, really (or a bunch of horny twentysomethings with alcoholic tendencies), all of the counselors; we work together all week and then we party all weekend. Last week and the week before that, I saw people from camp every. single. day. Fifteen days straight I spent with those people, and I never got tired of them.

In short, I am loving my summer so far. I get annoyed sometimes, obviously, but I think I'm going to look back on this as one of the best summers of my life.

/sappy and/or Jesus fucking Christ I almost think I should make this a private entry because I used the words "best," "summer," and "life" in the same sentence.

On good days I think I should have a blog about my job. That I should chronicle all of the loltastic shit that goes on while the children are completely fucking oblivious. Its tags would have titles like, "Overheard in camp,"1 "Kids are dumb," "Parents are dumber," "Counselorcest," and "Ten thousand child-proof synonyms for the word 'shitfaced.'"

But today was not a good day. I have a "developmentally challenged" girl, and Satan incarnated in the form of a tiny green-eyed boy2, and my attention black hole was absent today. God only knows what will happen when she gets back; I think she and the Satan child will actually kill each other. (Letting them would probably benefit the world.)



1 "Every time he talks to me I just want to take off all of my clothing." / "Did you and that girl hook up?" "Who?" "You know. The [jiggles hands in front of chest]." "Oh. Yeah. It was crazy."
2 Last week he grabbed his best friend in a headlock and punched him in the face until their counselors dragged them apart!


Also. Three days straight, I have exercised! Tired of being fat, lolz, and chasing children around does not keep the pounds off as had hoped. Or, it keeps the fat off but it does not tighten, and I am someone who cares about being tight. Sore in various places (hamstrings, abs, knee, the soles of my feet because my shoes are actually that fucking old) but it feels good. I always forget that I enjoy working out when I take a break from the gym ♥


Most importantly: Em. Thank you for bringing that picture into my life.

guess I'm twenty now.

continuing the theme slasshhhh, I feel like this should be able to go someplace by I don't know where:

( coming (Cesc, Joaquín) )