30 pages of papers to write? Bring on the blogs, baby.

I'm making such great headway on my paper here on the sixth floor of Geisel. I staked out my corner of sequestration, fittingly picked out some more books on breakout violence, suppressed nearly uncontrollable giggles for about twenty minutes over G's email delineating the perils of running out of toilet paper, opened the blank Word document that will become my 15-page masterpiece on the armed conflict in Colombia, and then promptly took a one hour nap. I was woken up, drooling and still drowsy, by the screamo blaring from the headphones of some dude next to me and since then have gone through my entire blogroll of To Read's...twice. Upon such completion, I figured it only appropriate that I now write a dribble of my own.


These days, I feel like I have been missing Spain quite a bit. Although to be honest, I don't know if it's so much that I miss Spain or that I just want to be somewhere else (or if it's that I suck at school and thus am only longing for Europe's faux academia).

Some evenings, visions of the street night lights in Rome, Venice, and Paris just will not leave me. Some mornings, the sunrise in Malta is the only way to begin the day. Some days, it's Portugal that I desperately miss. Other weekends, it's Switzerland. Then there are weeks when I simply cannot stop lusting after the unknown and dreaming of all the countries and cities and sites I have never been. Brazil, Cuba, Haiti, India, Turkey, Egypt, Greece...and you know it's bad when even Asia starts creeping in too. I suppose it doesn't help either that I read the New York Times Travel section more often than I check my email (note to reader: when I start checking more than Facebook, that is when you stage an intervention).

Oh, the drab life of being stricken with severe wanderlust and stuck in San Diego (I know, I know, I live a life of such utter hardship). My primary symptom of itching to move on every five months into any given geographical venture has me ants-in-my-pants ready for the next adventure.

But of course, I've come to realize that the restlessness is tempered by just wanting to travel the world with the right people. Lone rangering in the Lands of Fantastic doesn't quite allow the full development of the anticipated amazing. I remember going places last year and wishing for so and so and he and she to be there to experience and take in that particular everything with me.

So I suppose after all that what San Diego lacks in novelty, it makes up in company. While I'm here facing the 'mundane;' being forced to be a good student (and failing...), being forced to be serious about growing up, and being forced to remain somewhat stationary for the present, I revel in the joy and close proximity of relationships more blessed than any could ever hope for.

In the midst of reminiscing and pining away to be anywhere but here, I ultimately came to conclude that regardless of my current geographic location and its debatable merits of excitement, I really am thankful for those here in sunny Southern California.


...but really, traveling, anyone?