Fucking arse.

I am in Rome.

The sun is glinting off warm orange walls and classic architecture and Vespas scoot by every few minutes.

There is so much to say, and not enough words to say it with.

Summary:

Amsterdam - five course meal cooked for us by this super Aussie chef who was high the entire time. Crazy Canadian Marty who is a former drug dealer on his 'farewell tour.' Card playing with a group of German guys. Tons of pastries.

Brussels - hilarious frat roomies and Rob, one of my MN friends. So good to see a familiar face... so strange that we were in Europe together!

Rome - gorgeous city with too much graffiti and wonderful food on every corner.

Venice tonight. There will be more in coming days. Including pictures (!) once I have my new laptop!

Love to you all!

You were superhuman in my eyes, but now I realize you're only mortal, like me.

This is a good thing.

I'm out of the maddening fog, for now at least.

Fall break quickly approaches.

Amsterdam. Brussels. Rome. Venice.

How excited I am for Venice and moeche (fried soft shell crabs)! After reading Thief Lord I have longed to see the canals and beautiful sinking city.

I'm in love with the world.
(I have my very own Holborn Library card)
(I'm watching Clueless tonight)
(I'm leaving for break on Saturday)
(My mother, with my NEW laptop, and Michelle are coming)
(The view out the window is startlingly clear against a backdrop of ominous rolling clouds)
(My roomie and I enjoyed a SATC snuggle marathon)
(My roomie is too cool for words)

i hate you.

i hate the way you make me feel,
like this--
unfinished.

you are never there the way i want you.
i
hate
you

.

I hate the constant analyzing that comes with emotional distress.

It tears at you, gnaws at you, thickens your throat, until you can't see anything behind you or in front of you.

All you know is your irrationality, and it worsens the pain.

Back from New York.

Beautiful trip, wrenching departure. Seeing everyone... I've missed you all unbelievably. Yes, especially you, Andres.

8 more weeks here. Sometimes it feels an eternity, others, a fleeting moment.

I'm so tired of thinking like this and having people be nice and with me holding it back. I miss you, my darling. I hurt when I heard about you. I'll always be here for you. I need to see you but it has to wait and I can't. I miss having you near me, and going gallivanting and frolicking. I want you.

I want to be honest and real and stop holding back because I'm afraid. Someday I'm afraid that fear will turn into intense regret and I won't know what to do with myself. It's so easy, though, to say you'll do it, but when you're faced with all the consequences. But risks are necessary in life, or what's the point?

I hate being like this, and seeing you, and seeing how you're not like me.

In New York.

With my love.

Need I say more?

Just back from Amy's birthday dinner.

Realized just how much I had missed having a group of friends to chat and laugh with easily, with in jokes and all those things associated with having a social group.

Delicious food, horrible service. I was the assertive one, as always.

Hey, I like what I want when I want it.

Small world.

After 532 steps, I stood at the top of the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral. I looked down at the view, breathless and nervous stomach from the urge to just jump.

I'm not the only one.

Alors! Katie Holmes is pregnant!

How distressing.

Two thousand words and a presentation to go, and I will be in my beloved's arms. It feels near an eternity.

I am not feeling very writing-prolific lately. Unhappiness often is my inspiration, and I have been exceedingly content of late.

I made lamb and carrots today and was sad when I realized I had forgotten the rosemary.

I have no words

to tell you

how much you mean to me.

You have are am what I need.

In the words of crazy cruise

you complete me.

Happy 23rd, darling.

I love you.

At a crossroads, between now and full fledged adulthood.

I don't want to take that step yet.

Watching X Factor on telly and it is strangely compelling, like American Idol times three, from what I can tell. I love how after every "You're in" or "You're out" Enrique Iglesias singing "I can be your hero..." comes on.

Also I can see the host's bra through her shirt.

All these beefy men in colorful shirts and tight jeans--normally gay but here they're just British.

Sad how happy I get when people make it. I share in their slow motion joy.

Ministry of Sound last night.

Two young whips making out on the dancefloor.

Flash.

An older portly man dancing by himself.

Flash.

A heartbroken girl wildly throwing herself around in manic motion.

Flash.

Antique mirrors, mannequins on swings, glow of colored lights above.