i'm not really sure what to think right now. i'm listening to an album by a supercool guy i met on monday at a built to spill show. i sort of want to share this music with everyone i know. it's dark and eery and beautiful and is forcing me to access parts of me that i try to avoid. it makes me feel lonely and wanting to create something that can make people feel in the same way completely raw way. i miss loving. and the infinite complexities of love. learning and pushing and laughing and tumbling. i want to be in love again. this week i also hung out with a friend in paris who i could sort of picture something with. but he's in a relationship - a long term one. but we're also very attracted to each other. i feel the responsibility to warn him about the depths of my own darkness and also a more basic responsibility to not ruin someone else's life. this whole episodes reminds me of how selfish i've been in the past to people i care about and who care about me. always, i drop the ball. and runaway and think of it as me saving someone from something more painful and overly complex. but it's basically just plain wrong to continue to think in these terms. i want to hide and hibernate until i can wake up and feel like i can do things right.

rube goldberg, a-go-go

i love being reminded of the beauty in everyday exchanges. while i'm in the midst of many a frustration adjusting to a new existence in a foreign country where my abrasiveness ain't cute and my fumbling words aren't seen as humble attempts to "assimilate" or learn, it's easy to lose perspective on what it's all for.

i had an impromptu french lesson today in my kitchen with my roommate florent. while i was burning zucchini and turning pasta into starchy mush, i shyly shared the vocab a handy french audio dictionary helped me to pick up. the learning and frustration are so much more fun when shared and laughed over. yes, emile hirsch, happiness is only real if shared.

i was also temporarily inspired by all this democratic national convention bizness. i caught up on michelle obama's speech and for the first time could really identify with all this american dream gumbo. surprise family reunions and spending time with family has reminded me of some of the lessons that i learned while bumming around south america. sincere thankfulness for those who came before me and who paved the way for me to live this vagabond life for a little while. i suppose we're all waiting to see what become of it all as i find my place, my role in this rube goldberg-ian contraption of life.

poop diatribe.

i miss the days of yesterday when i could poop without guilt, without grief, without shame. i miss the days when i could laugh when i ripped. when sneaker shuffles or running water diversions were not necessary. i miss the days when i could be me, uncensored, bloated, and proudly stinky.

straight out of murakami

i've just arrived in colombia, happy to see familiar faces in a sea of a pushing crowd outside bogota's airport. it's been just over 7 months since i started my journey and i've arrived in the last country on my south america trip. i've spent these months living and working, traveling solo, traveling with new friends and old, and now i'm about to begin a month of family time with a family i hardly know. in many ways, this was the most anticipated part of my trip. a place that i've imagined having roots in. in reality, i'm just as much a gringa here as i've been everywhere else on my trip. of course i realized this would be the case a while back but it makes me think about home and roots in general. in many ways, i'm very attracted to the idea of being rootless. being able to possess an adaptability any where i find myself. not being tied down to a place or people in order to be able to pursue exactly what it is that i want. so is the way of a solo traveler. i do what i want. i go where i want. i create what i want. i love that this is who i could be for this time in my life. living purely for myself for the sake of myself. as i consider next steps in my life, i wonder how long i can keep this up. can i possibly spend another year traveling? becoming accustomed to the kinds of temporary roots i've left all through out south america? living in paris for a year as a grad student would be very different from backpacking across south america but in a sense, its another form of escapism. in the depths of my heart, i can only picture going back to new york if i was with him. if he declared his love for me in a hopeful way like he never has before. but i realize this is asking way too much and that only my dreams and fantasies i've cultivated over the many hours of window seat bus rides i've experienced over the last 7 months can live up to my, well, dreams. it's in that space alone can i live out this other life. its only with the help of this fantasy alternative consciousness am i able to find the strength i need to keep moving. how very haruki murakami of me. i'm frightened by what'll happen once i've really realized that these worlds are in fact not able to exist simultaneously. distraction is crucial.