This Is For You

It's been a year. Maybe a little more. Either way, so much has happened since the last time I wrote something here. I won't attempt to summarize everything that occurred this year, or else I'd be here for days.

Looking back at my old posts, I see how much of myself I used to put out here. I replaced this blog with a new one, one that's way more public and way less personal. I realized how much I miss actually reflecting on things. I don't want to go through life on autopilot. I don't want to simply be. Sometimes I wonder what the point of all of it is. If we're just gonna die, why even bother? The search for meaning seems to be the eternal struggle not just for me, but for everyone.

College has exposed me to a whole new culture and a whole new pool of people. From these people I have learned so much, and they have helped me on this never-ending search for a defined identity. But the truth is, does anyone ever find it? Is anyone ever really able to say "this is who I am" with no doubt, no question? I don't think so. When our parents had us, they were just improvising. I bet they didn't really feel like grownups. I bet they still don't. When I have my kids, I'll be winging it all the way, and they'll look at me and see nothing but maturity and experience. But it won't really be there, because deep down I'm just a kid who doesn't know what she's doing, trying to do the right thing.

Wow, this post took a turn I didn't really expect... I guess I needed this more than I thought. I need this little solace to write down what goes on in my mind and hope it makes some sense. Who am I writing for? I don't even know if anyone reads this, I'm sure as hell not going to propagate this on Facebook or Twitter. No, that's for my other blog. The one about my funny experiences. I won't put my soul into Facebook or Twitter.

This one is for whoever stumbles upon here accidentally. Or maybe it's for my future self. Or a mix of both. One person commented, over a year ago, on two of my posts. Someone who does not know me, but at the same time knows me better than anyone else, in more ways that none. So this is for you, Arthur. This is for everyone out there in this anonymous world of the Internet who stumbles upon this blog one day.

This is for the silence. This is for the soul. This is for the echo.

Is there anybody out there?

One More Week

If last time I posted was April 3rd, it's been four months since I've touched this blog. That makes me feel bad, because I thought I had it in me to start a project and not stop halfway through. Oh, well. Let's call it a prolonged summer vacation from the blog.

As of now I have one week and one day left in Brazil. All the excitement that consumed me before is slowly being replaced by tinges of nervousness and anxiety. Leaving the country I've lived in for 18 years is no easy thing, even though it has been my dream for quite a while.

You see, a comment on my last post actually inspired me to write this one. "Deep, artistic and passionate soul, that of yours..." he said. I never thought about myself quite in that way. I actually never really stopped to think about myself at all, who I really am, what is really behind this necessity I have to study miles and miles away from home. Maybe it's because I'm always seeking adventure, something new and different... maybe I just get bored easily and need something new to complain about. Or maybe I want to get out of my comfort zone and really grow as a person. I don't know quite yet what my reason is for it all, but this that I'm doing, moving to Boston, it's no game anymore.

This is the real deal.

Greener Grass

After a day of running errands and being yelled at incessantly by one's mother, one does not wish to go to sleep thinking about school the next day. If only each night I could forget that there is school, so I could sleep calmly and peacefully without the constant complaint from the nerdy side of me: "did I forget anything?"

I'll stop complaining about school. Everyone has to do it. I hate it when my friends complain about it, so I really should stop doing the same thing here. But it is true that I have had enough of it.

On a happier note, it's 10:34 PM and I still have countless pages to read for English class. Yeah, you really thought I'd stop complaining about school, but as I search my mind for something more interesting to talk about on this post, it's empty. All I can think about is getting through the school days, wondering if I'll miss it when I'm gone, wondering if I'll complain about college the same way I complain about school.

I probably will. You know why? It's never good enough. It's never good enough for anyone, no matter what you do. If you have one job, there is 99.9% chance that you want a different one. If you have one car, there is a 99.8% chance that you want a different one. People are never ever ever satisfied with the things they have. I think it's hardwired into our little human brains. We constantly need to need different things, because what we have is never good enough.

I just want to find my balance.

Now we're here.

And so I'm back. Break is over. Tomorrow at 6:50 AM my alarm will go off and I will go out into the world, back to the normal school routine that I've been living for the past, what, 14 years or so?

But it's different now. Tomorrow is my last first day of school. Everything I do this semester will be for the last time in that place. In September I will be in a brand new place with brand new people, eating strange food and sleeping in a strange bed while watching strange TV. My life will take such a turn that I won't know what hit me. Until, of course, winter. I have never really experienced winter for more than a vacation period. It'll be so weird.

But for now, more studying and school and blablabla for seven hours a day.

Take out your iPhones.

The Object

I'm home. It's 10:05 PM on a Tuesday as I write this, which means I should probably be doing something more useful than posting here or playing useless games on Sporcle. However, this is what I am doing. I cut and straightened my hair today. It definitely feels better to have hair that doesn't get affected by the summer's humidity, but I am still not allowed to wear contacts. My doctor said that due to the bacterial shit that's going on with my eyes, I'm only allowed to wear contacts again on Thursday. I am freaking out. There's an object on my face. I can see it. I see its rims. The lens gives me a headache. I can feel it there - just sitting - perched on my nose as if it has any right to be there. I love my glasses, they're stylish and all - but wearing them 24/7 is driving me insane.

I'm going to go try to distract myself from the object perched on my nose.

A Moment of Lunacy

I'm joining NaNoWriMo.

As if I already didn't have enough things to do.

My brother told me about this writing "competition" where people sit down and write a 50,000 word novel in one month. If they can do it, they send in their novel and get a certificate. If they can't... well, tough. At least they have the start of a novel of their own.

So either way it's pretty cool. NaNoWriMo = National Novel Writing Month. For some reason, the worst month (at least for me) was chosen. November. I never have less free time than in November. But my brother convinced me, so I'm doing it.

I'm supposed to only start on November 1, but it's okay if I write an outline and come up with characters and stuff before then. I did that today. I'm downloading this word processor thing called Scrivener and I'm starting as soon as it's not considered cheating.

I doubt that I'll even get to 10,000 words. But it's definitely worth a try.

Good luck me.

12:22 AM: It's Now Monday Morning.

And yet another week begins.

Every time I think I'm back on my feet, I fall again. When I think I have it all under control, I remember one other thing I still have to do. Is peace so impossible to attain?

I finished my book. I read Drew Lerman's Magic City in September and October. I wish I could have finished it faster but there's just no time. It was a really good novel, and it was probably the first one I finished in years. How sad. There are so many books in my reading lineup. I bought the newest Princess Diaries the other day; it felt wrong not to. I read the first nine books, why not read the tenth? I wonder if I'm too old for it. I wonder if I'll still like it. It's not exactly literature to think about. Then again, it feels like a sin if I don't read it.

It's late and probably time for me to go to bed. I got home from the party at the time that I usually wake up to go to school. It's a little depressing, actually, to get home when it's light outside and you can hear birds chirping. It makes me feel all out of sync.

I'm going to sleep to see if I can dream about something nice. I sure as hell need it.