Dowd does it again.
What a column.
So, it finally let up, the rain that is. Tomorrow I have my last final at 11:45 and then I am spending the rest of the day packing, while our farewell dinner is around 5 pm. I've got this weird, uneasy feeling in me that has been sitting and lingering in my stomach, making me jittery and short of breath all day. I think it's the changes coming up. It's all approaching so quickly and it's all happening so abruptly. We take our last exams, and then we pack up and leave. My final complaint about IES is that I spent my last full week in Rome studying like crazy for my exams, and had hardly any time to enjoy the city leisurely. At the same time, I have made the best of it, and spent a lot of time with Cait and Liz, missing them already. Last night I went to my friend Lindsay's house and drank wine with some of the other girls and danced around their dining room to The Beatles.
I am going to miss the city, but I am also going to miss the people I've met here. It's interesting how you find people to love and get along with and share your thoughts with even after you pack up and move away from everything that is familiar. It's nice to be reminded of how many people there are in the world and how many of them you are likely to get along with. It's not so bad out there, really. You aren't alone. People are not menacing.
My new motto is: If you can do it in Rome, you can do it at home. For example, I plan on using public transportation in Bloomington whenever possible, as it can't come anywhere near the level of complication that is the Rome transit system. Also, if I can leave everyone I love behind for four months and rebound as quickly as I did, I feel like I could do almost anything. Although it's hard to judge without being completely removed from the situation yet, it's safe to assume that this trip has done wonders for my self esteem, my personal independence and my intellectuality. I feel stronger simply for being here and surviving it, no, enjoying it.
Not to mention I've come to value the passing of time, as it seems it has passed so quickly since I've been here, and I can't help but realize yet again that four months, one year, 100 years is nothing in the span of the universe. It's not so much that I value its fleeting existence, but instead it's the little moments that you can almost watch in frames move across the screen of your consciousness (because they are so meaningful and so individually fantastic), almost feel slipping effortlessly through your fingers despite your effort to stop time and savor them, that I have come to recognize and give thanks for. Time never stops and I always wake up, either from a deep slumber or a mental disconnection of sorts and wonder how I got to this moment and where yesterday went. I think this measuring of time and its momentum is important, because knowing that you are mortal makes every second potentially (if not inevitably) pertinent, relevant, precious.
I don't know. Another phase of my life has come and gone and I have to wait and see exactly what I've taken from it and what it has taken from me. Isn't it funny how we almost never know what right now means in the long run? Isn't it a little bit ironic that the best way to evaluate ourselves and interpret our state is not by the present, but by the decisions we've made in the past? We are in a perpetual state of playing catch up. And yet by this principle of action and consequence, the only way to really ensure the future is to be here and now. Easy. Easy and natural. Just living. And smiling. And breathing.
So, it finally let up, the rain that is. Tomorrow I have my last final at 11:45 and then I am spending the rest of the day packing, while our farewell dinner is around 5 pm. I've got this weird, uneasy feeling in me that has been sitting and lingering in my stomach, making me jittery and short of breath all day. I think it's the changes coming up. It's all approaching so quickly and it's all happening so abruptly. We take our last exams, and then we pack up and leave. My final complaint about IES is that I spent my last full week in Rome studying like crazy for my exams, and had hardly any time to enjoy the city leisurely. At the same time, I have made the best of it, and spent a lot of time with Cait and Liz, missing them already. Last night I went to my friend Lindsay's house and drank wine with some of the other girls and danced around their dining room to The Beatles.
I am going to miss the city, but I am also going to miss the people I've met here. It's interesting how you find people to love and get along with and share your thoughts with even after you pack up and move away from everything that is familiar. It's nice to be reminded of how many people there are in the world and how many of them you are likely to get along with. It's not so bad out there, really. You aren't alone. People are not menacing.
My new motto is: If you can do it in Rome, you can do it at home. For example, I plan on using public transportation in Bloomington whenever possible, as it can't come anywhere near the level of complication that is the Rome transit system. Also, if I can leave everyone I love behind for four months and rebound as quickly as I did, I feel like I could do almost anything. Although it's hard to judge without being completely removed from the situation yet, it's safe to assume that this trip has done wonders for my self esteem, my personal independence and my intellectuality. I feel stronger simply for being here and surviving it, no, enjoying it.
Not to mention I've come to value the passing of time, as it seems it has passed so quickly since I've been here, and I can't help but realize yet again that four months, one year, 100 years is nothing in the span of the universe. It's not so much that I value its fleeting existence, but instead it's the little moments that you can almost watch in frames move across the screen of your consciousness (because they are so meaningful and so individually fantastic), almost feel slipping effortlessly through your fingers despite your effort to stop time and savor them, that I have come to recognize and give thanks for. Time never stops and I always wake up, either from a deep slumber or a mental disconnection of sorts and wonder how I got to this moment and where yesterday went. I think this measuring of time and its momentum is important, because knowing that you are mortal makes every second potentially (if not inevitably) pertinent, relevant, precious.
I don't know. Another phase of my life has come and gone and I have to wait and see exactly what I've taken from it and what it has taken from me. Isn't it funny how we almost never know what right now means in the long run? Isn't it a little bit ironic that the best way to evaluate ourselves and interpret our state is not by the present, but by the decisions we've made in the past? We are in a perpetual state of playing catch up. And yet by this principle of action and consequence, the only way to really ensure the future is to be here and now. Easy. Easy and natural. Just living. And smiling. And breathing.
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