I've finally felt a little homesickness after not feeling it for about 2 weeks. This time, I wasn't missing my friends or family or house or school. This time I was missing the stars.
Now mind you, I don't live in the middle of a city. I live on the outskirts of a village, but there are always street lights and the sounds of cars on the highway the street over, the sound of children and their parents arguing in the streets, the sound of the neighbors moving furniture or whatever the heck they're doing.
I'm used to solitude. I'm used to going home to a relatively quite house (besides when there are screaming matches between family members) with my own room to lock myself in when I need to recover from a particularly hectic day. Mind you, I love having siblings that are actually close in age that I can hang out with, as my real siblings are much older than me and grew up across the United States from me.But I'm still getting used to always having people around, always sharing everything (my room with my sister, the bathroom with both siblings,etc.), and to living in an apartment, which is considerably smaller than my own home. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't be happier with where I am and the family that I have here, but it's still a bit different and, at times, still a bit strange.
I was at my host aunt's house the other night. She lives sort of in the mountains, has her own house, and we can actually see the sky there. That's when I realized just how much I missed the stars. Not just the stars...the peace, the tranquility of nature, the quiet of the night. I miss laying in the grass at my house, gazing at the vast, endless universe, trying to make out constellations. I miss hearing nothing but the crickets and the wind blowing through the leaves of the ridiculously beautiful green trees. I miss feeling at peace, like everything is exactly as it should be, like everything is perfectly at rest, one harmonious being, breathing as one, acting as one.
I miss staring at the stars and being able to just THINK. Sometimes, I find that with all the things going on and all the people around me, I don't have time to just think anymore. That's what I love the most: when I can just ponder how meaningless human life is when you take into account the rest of the universe. It's so crazy to think that we are nothing. We are a tiny speck in the endless reality. There could be beings out there JUST LIKE US, or related to us but extremely different. And hey, maybe they're staring at the stars the exact same moment that I am, seeing a different set of stars, wondering if there's anyone or anything else out there that resembles the life they have.
In the grand scheme of things, the problems that we have just seem so meaningless. They seem so materialistic, so human, so relative. That's why I love to look at the stars. They put everything into perspective. And that's something I've been lacking for a while. Since I've gotten here, I've given too much reason to the problems I've had, making them more than they need to be. In the life that I was given, I've been blessed beyond belief, and I'm thankful for that.
I didn't realize just how much I missed the stars, the nature, the quiet, the peace. I didn't realize how much I missed the feeling of laying in the damp, cold grass, getting lost in the stars that cover the sky like a blanket, getting lost in the promises of life.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Monday, October 27, 2014
Annabelle
So, Saturday, I went to see Annabelle with some of my girlfriends from school, my host sister, and a friend from the US who is here with AFS, too.
For those of you that don't know what Annabelle is, it's a horror movie. (WARNING: Plot killer:) There's a family who are getting ready to have a baby when the daughter of their next door neighbors and her boyfriend go on a killing spree, killing their own parents and attacking their neighbors, this couple with the baby. When the cops come, the girl locks herself in the nursery with this doll that the husband had given the wife for the baby, and this girl kills herself, as a sacrifice to the devil. They were in a cult or something like that. And this allows an evil spirit to possess the doll.
So, the doll starts haunting the family and brings the devil with it, I guess. It's looking for a soul to take with it, trying to take the baby's soul, because it can't exactly resist. In the end, the mom is about to commit suicide with the doll in her hands to sacrifice her soul for her child. But everything ends up alright in the end, and the doll is in some museum, locked behind glass.
This is actually a real story! I mean, obviously there are things that have been changed or dramatized, because that's kind of what Hollywood does, but it's a genuine thing. And the doll is in some whacky museum of paranormal things in Connecticut. That's literally the most scary part about it.
I used to HATE scary movies, but now I love them! I mean, they still scare the living bejeezus out of me, but for some reason, I find them absolutely fascinating, especially the paranormal ones.
Not only was it great because the movie was awesome, but it was great because of the experience in the theater. Now mind you, I was a little nervous because this was my first time to the movie theater in Spain. I wasn't sure if I'd even be able to understand anything, as they do voice overs in Spanish (which is absolutely hilarious btw). But I understood pretty well; almost everything, actually.
The theater was huge and FULL of people, though I don't think the movie is very new, though I could be wrong, I have no idea. All the people were yelling at the screen, hiding behind sweatshirts, flipping out. It was actually quite hilarious to be a part of. At times, I even found myself yelling at the screen in Spanish as if the characters could hear me (not like they'd listen anyway, all scary movies kind of go the same way in terms of character stupidity).
But yeah, sorry if I ruined the movie for you. If you've seen it, I'd love to know what you thought. And if you haven't, I definitely recommend going to see it.
And if you ever get the chance to go to a (possibly new) movie in a theater with a bunch of crazy Spanish people, GO FOR IT. It's pretty funny!
For those of you that don't know what Annabelle is, it's a horror movie. (WARNING: Plot killer:) There's a family who are getting ready to have a baby when the daughter of their next door neighbors and her boyfriend go on a killing spree, killing their own parents and attacking their neighbors, this couple with the baby. When the cops come, the girl locks herself in the nursery with this doll that the husband had given the wife for the baby, and this girl kills herself, as a sacrifice to the devil. They were in a cult or something like that. And this allows an evil spirit to possess the doll.
So, the doll starts haunting the family and brings the devil with it, I guess. It's looking for a soul to take with it, trying to take the baby's soul, because it can't exactly resist. In the end, the mom is about to commit suicide with the doll in her hands to sacrifice her soul for her child. But everything ends up alright in the end, and the doll is in some museum, locked behind glass.
This is actually a real story! I mean, obviously there are things that have been changed or dramatized, because that's kind of what Hollywood does, but it's a genuine thing. And the doll is in some whacky museum of paranormal things in Connecticut. That's literally the most scary part about it.
I used to HATE scary movies, but now I love them! I mean, they still scare the living bejeezus out of me, but for some reason, I find them absolutely fascinating, especially the paranormal ones.
Not only was it great because the movie was awesome, but it was great because of the experience in the theater. Now mind you, I was a little nervous because this was my first time to the movie theater in Spain. I wasn't sure if I'd even be able to understand anything, as they do voice overs in Spanish (which is absolutely hilarious btw). But I understood pretty well; almost everything, actually.
The theater was huge and FULL of people, though I don't think the movie is very new, though I could be wrong, I have no idea. All the people were yelling at the screen, hiding behind sweatshirts, flipping out. It was actually quite hilarious to be a part of. At times, I even found myself yelling at the screen in Spanish as if the characters could hear me (not like they'd listen anyway, all scary movies kind of go the same way in terms of character stupidity).
But yeah, sorry if I ruined the movie for you. If you've seen it, I'd love to know what you thought. And if you haven't, I definitely recommend going to see it.
And if you ever get the chance to go to a (possibly new) movie in a theater with a bunch of crazy Spanish people, GO FOR IT. It's pretty funny!
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Guggenheim
So, Bilbao is kind of only really known because of the Guggenheim museum. It is not the only Guggenheim museum, but the one in Bilbao is made out of titanium, glass, and limestone. If you see it while walking or driving by, it looks like a boat. However, if you are looking at it from above, it is said to look like a blooming rose. It is truly quite spectacular.
Today was somehow actually the first time that I entered it. I was with three of my friends that are here with AFS as well, hanging out in Bilbao for the afternoon, because tomorrow, one of them is changing host families and moving all the way to Barcelona!!!! That's like 5 hours away, and we're all really going to miss him. But I'm happy he found a better living situation.
Anywho, we entered, and the inside of the building is even more spectacular than the outside. Unfortunately, at this moment, I don't have any pictures because my phone was dead while we were there, but my friends took some, and they will send them eventually. As soon as I get those pictures, I will post them along with this blog post, no worries.
However, even though I knew that it was a MODERN art museum, I still didn't really realize what that meant. The first floor was literally a room with a bunch of ginormous wooden/metal/IDon'tEvenKnowWhat sculptures. But they weren't sculptures of anything special. They were literally just big half circles. I was like what the hell is this? Did they forget to finish this exhibit? Is there supposed to be something more?
And of course, the second floor doesn't open until tomorrow, so we didn't get to see that.
Then there was the third floor, which was better, but still kind of ridiculous. There were metal boxes, giant wooden platforms that had "fallen" on each other (genuinely looked like Jenga in mega form), and paintings where I'm pretty sure the person just splattered every color they could find on the canvas. And all these things are "special" in some way, and probably millions of dollars.
I just don't understand. I did not like it at all. Maybe I just don't understand modern art, or maybe I just don't see the significance in the paintings/sculptures. For example, with the one painting that was literally just splatters of colors, my friend was like, "Yeah I think there's a lot of darkness and different colors to represent the craziness after World War II," or something like that. I was like, "Uhm that literally looks like he spilled all the paint." I just don't get it. I guess my kind of art is a quite literal painting of something, like the beach, or a forest, or a person. I'm not creative enough to see those things, I suppose.
So if you're super into modern art, and you see a deeper meaning in all of it, then the Guggenheim is the place for you. But if you're like me, I suggest going to see the outside, and possibly walking into the lobby of the building, but it's not really worth the money, which surprisingly isn't a lot. But I guess at least I can say I've been to the Guggenheim in Bilbao!!
Today was somehow actually the first time that I entered it. I was with three of my friends that are here with AFS as well, hanging out in Bilbao for the afternoon, because tomorrow, one of them is changing host families and moving all the way to Barcelona!!!! That's like 5 hours away, and we're all really going to miss him. But I'm happy he found a better living situation.
Anywho, we entered, and the inside of the building is even more spectacular than the outside. Unfortunately, at this moment, I don't have any pictures because my phone was dead while we were there, but my friends took some, and they will send them eventually. As soon as I get those pictures, I will post them along with this blog post, no worries.
However, even though I knew that it was a MODERN art museum, I still didn't really realize what that meant. The first floor was literally a room with a bunch of ginormous wooden/metal/IDon'tEvenKnowWhat sculptures. But they weren't sculptures of anything special. They were literally just big half circles. I was like what the hell is this? Did they forget to finish this exhibit? Is there supposed to be something more?
And of course, the second floor doesn't open until tomorrow, so we didn't get to see that.
Then there was the third floor, which was better, but still kind of ridiculous. There were metal boxes, giant wooden platforms that had "fallen" on each other (genuinely looked like Jenga in mega form), and paintings where I'm pretty sure the person just splattered every color they could find on the canvas. And all these things are "special" in some way, and probably millions of dollars.
I just don't understand. I did not like it at all. Maybe I just don't understand modern art, or maybe I just don't see the significance in the paintings/sculptures. For example, with the one painting that was literally just splatters of colors, my friend was like, "Yeah I think there's a lot of darkness and different colors to represent the craziness after World War II," or something like that. I was like, "Uhm that literally looks like he spilled all the paint." I just don't get it. I guess my kind of art is a quite literal painting of something, like the beach, or a forest, or a person. I'm not creative enough to see those things, I suppose.
So if you're super into modern art, and you see a deeper meaning in all of it, then the Guggenheim is the place for you. But if you're like me, I suggest going to see the outside, and possibly walking into the lobby of the building, but it's not really worth the money, which surprisingly isn't a lot. But I guess at least I can say I've been to the Guggenheim in Bilbao!!
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
New Blog
Just a heads up, in case you are curious or bored or like to read: I've just started a new blog. It's very random, nothing special. I've always loved to write. I don't think there's any better way to express yourself than with the written word. I think a pen and paper are two of the absolute most important things in this world, and they can get you so far. I've always been a writer, and whether it's obligatory (for example, a class essay) or for enjoyment, I always put my entire heart and soul into what I'm writing. I'm a very complicated thinker with deep feelings and a passionate soul, and for that, I think writing is an excellent outlet for expression. So, I've decided to create a blog where I just write...anything. Poems, short stories, anything random. It's never incredibly long, no worries, you won't be reading a novel. But I always write little things when I'm bored or when I'm feeling something in particular, and I decided, why not share them. Maybe someone can connect with me in one way or another through these stories. There's only 2 posts as of this moment: an introduction and a poem I've written, but I promise there will be more soon. So, if you've got any interest, and you'd like to check it out, click here. Thanks guys!
Monday, October 20, 2014
No place I'd rather be
You wanna hear something weird? I had that one day where the homesickness was eating away at me and I thought I might break for a while. And then, for an entire week, I felt absolutely no homesickness. Nothing, whatsoever.
I mean, there's a huge possibility that that's partly because I was super busy all week. I had a ridiculous amount of homework and studying this past week, and then I spent almost my whole weekend with the other exchange students at an orientation, which was obviously kind of lame, but at the same time really fun because of the people (and the ability to express myself in English).
But I think it's kind of amazing that not just for a day, not just for one random morning, or when I was sitting in a cafe in Bilbao, but for an entire week, I have felt content. I feel like I belong here. I feel like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be.
And while yes, it's hard to see the pictures of everyone doing things together, especially for Halloween, because that's my favorite holiday and it's not very popular here, I still can't imagine being there right now. I can't imagine being anywhere but here.
And for the first time, I'm starting to become extremely attached to the people here, to the place that I live, and to the experience that I'm going through. The thought of leaving actually makes me slightly depressed because there's so many things I have left to see, to learn, to say, to understand, and most importantly, to feel. I'm not ready to leave, and I'm starting to wonder if there will be a time when I AM ready.
Yes, Pennsylvania will always be my home, but this is my home now too, just like California will always be my home, as well. Moving doesn't mean you've left behind the place you were before, nor does it mean giving up the people you loved before. Moving means opening your eyes to more beautiful sights, opening your mind to experiences yet to come, opening your arms to new relationships you're bound to make, and opening your heart to new family, new friends, and new love. It's expanding the realm of the life you already had. That's why I think studying abroad is the greatest thing anyone could ever do, besides curing cancer or something like that, of course. It's giving you a chance to open yourself up to a whole new life, a whole new way of thinking, and a whole new world.
"What would I say to those who are thinking of studying abroad but are having doubts? ..... Just do it. Because I believe that the best experiences come from the things you're afraid of."
I mean, there's a huge possibility that that's partly because I was super busy all week. I had a ridiculous amount of homework and studying this past week, and then I spent almost my whole weekend with the other exchange students at an orientation, which was obviously kind of lame, but at the same time really fun because of the people (and the ability to express myself in English).
But I think it's kind of amazing that not just for a day, not just for one random morning, or when I was sitting in a cafe in Bilbao, but for an entire week, I have felt content. I feel like I belong here. I feel like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be.
And while yes, it's hard to see the pictures of everyone doing things together, especially for Halloween, because that's my favorite holiday and it's not very popular here, I still can't imagine being there right now. I can't imagine being anywhere but here.
And for the first time, I'm starting to become extremely attached to the people here, to the place that I live, and to the experience that I'm going through. The thought of leaving actually makes me slightly depressed because there's so many things I have left to see, to learn, to say, to understand, and most importantly, to feel. I'm not ready to leave, and I'm starting to wonder if there will be a time when I AM ready.
Yes, Pennsylvania will always be my home, but this is my home now too, just like California will always be my home, as well. Moving doesn't mean you've left behind the place you were before, nor does it mean giving up the people you loved before. Moving means opening your eyes to more beautiful sights, opening your mind to experiences yet to come, opening your arms to new relationships you're bound to make, and opening your heart to new family, new friends, and new love. It's expanding the realm of the life you already had. That's why I think studying abroad is the greatest thing anyone could ever do, besides curing cancer or something like that, of course. It's giving you a chance to open yourself up to a whole new life, a whole new way of thinking, and a whole new world.
"What would I say to those who are thinking of studying abroad but are having doubts? ..... Just do it. Because I believe that the best experiences come from the things you're afraid of."
Sunday, October 12, 2014
The Forgotten
It's obviously painful to miss someone. You feel an emptiness where they used to reside. You feel an ache for them, an ache to see them again, an ache to be able to laugh with them, touch them, hold them, really BE with them. Sometimes it can even drive you crazy.
However, I think missing someone can also be terrifying. What's scary isn't the fact that you miss them...what's scary is wondering if they even miss you back. What's scary is wondering if you ever cross their mind. What's scary is wondering if they even care that you're gone.
And that's how I feel today. I look on Instagram and see countless photos from the Homecoming dance, which let's be honest, I probably wouldn't have gone to anyway, as I think school dances are an egocentric popularity contest set to music. But here's the thing, all of the people that I grew up with, that I miss, that I love, are all in one place, smiling, laughing, hoping, and loving. All of them are having a great time, all of them together, and all of it without me. And I realize that I'm having an experience that's ridiculously incredible and exciting and I'm so beyond happy and content here with my new family, city, friends, etc. But it still sucks to watch them all grow closer as I slowly drift farther away.
The worst part is having to wonder if they're forgetting about me. I know it's probably stupid to think that, but it's a genuine concern. It's only been a month, and I already worry that I've slipped their mind...that's what worries me. I'm spending an entire year in a totally different place, secluded from those back home, those that are spending this year together, laughing together, crying together, making memories together, falling in and out of love together. And all of these things, whether good or bad, are going to bring them closer, going to push them into each other, push them into loving and trusting each other more than ever. And all the while, I'm being pushed away. Each day that goes by, it becomes easier for them to forget. Eventually, they'll no longer see the empty desk as the place I used to be...to them, it will be just another empty desk.
That's what scares me...feeling like I won't be remembered, like I won't be missed...but feeling like I deserve to be remembered, like I deserve to be missed, at least by some. Feeling like I gave everything I could to some people, feeling like I shared something with them, like we're now holding little pieces of each other within our own hearts. Feeling like for that reason, I deserve to be preserved in their memory, at least for longer than only one month.
Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm just lonely, and having a bad day, and missing home a little too much. But I just don't want to lose anything back home while I search for new things here. And maybe that makes me selfish...wanting to have a life in both places, wanting to keep those that I love in both places, wanting to be a part of two lives, both mine. But if that makes me selfish, then hell, I'm okay with that. Because to me, giving up everything back home to find "better" things here is selfish, it's crazy to assume that's possible (at least for me), and it's horrible. I could never give up on those that I love. And for that reason, I will hold on as tightly as humanly possible to those I love; I will preserve them in my memory for as long as I'm away; I will remember them, I will miss them, and I will love them...no matter what part of the world I'm in. I can only hope I meant enough to them to get that in return...
"You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place."
However, I think missing someone can also be terrifying. What's scary isn't the fact that you miss them...what's scary is wondering if they even miss you back. What's scary is wondering if you ever cross their mind. What's scary is wondering if they even care that you're gone.
And that's how I feel today. I look on Instagram and see countless photos from the Homecoming dance, which let's be honest, I probably wouldn't have gone to anyway, as I think school dances are an egocentric popularity contest set to music. But here's the thing, all of the people that I grew up with, that I miss, that I love, are all in one place, smiling, laughing, hoping, and loving. All of them are having a great time, all of them together, and all of it without me. And I realize that I'm having an experience that's ridiculously incredible and exciting and I'm so beyond happy and content here with my new family, city, friends, etc. But it still sucks to watch them all grow closer as I slowly drift farther away.
The worst part is having to wonder if they're forgetting about me. I know it's probably stupid to think that, but it's a genuine concern. It's only been a month, and I already worry that I've slipped their mind...that's what worries me. I'm spending an entire year in a totally different place, secluded from those back home, those that are spending this year together, laughing together, crying together, making memories together, falling in and out of love together. And all of these things, whether good or bad, are going to bring them closer, going to push them into each other, push them into loving and trusting each other more than ever. And all the while, I'm being pushed away. Each day that goes by, it becomes easier for them to forget. Eventually, they'll no longer see the empty desk as the place I used to be...to them, it will be just another empty desk.
That's what scares me...feeling like I won't be remembered, like I won't be missed...but feeling like I deserve to be remembered, like I deserve to be missed, at least by some. Feeling like I gave everything I could to some people, feeling like I shared something with them, like we're now holding little pieces of each other within our own hearts. Feeling like for that reason, I deserve to be preserved in their memory, at least for longer than only one month.
Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm just lonely, and having a bad day, and missing home a little too much. But I just don't want to lose anything back home while I search for new things here. And maybe that makes me selfish...wanting to have a life in both places, wanting to keep those that I love in both places, wanting to be a part of two lives, both mine. But if that makes me selfish, then hell, I'm okay with that. Because to me, giving up everything back home to find "better" things here is selfish, it's crazy to assume that's possible (at least for me), and it's horrible. I could never give up on those that I love. And for that reason, I will hold on as tightly as humanly possible to those I love; I will preserve them in my memory for as long as I'm away; I will remember them, I will miss them, and I will love them...no matter what part of the world I'm in. I can only hope I meant enough to them to get that in return...
"You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place."
Friday, October 10, 2014
FIRST EXAM
Today I took my first official test in Spanish school...Actually that's a lie. I already took one, but it was in English class...which is taught in English...sooo that doesn't really count. But today I had a test in Latin...
Now, keep in mind that Latin is somehow my easiest class right now. I understand almost everything in class and I am able to do the homework with almost no problems.
However, when I went in to take that test, I swear my mind went totally blank. I couldn't remember a thing at first. But then after a few minutes of literally just staring at the test and probably looking either crazy or stupid (or quite possibly both), I started to remember things. So, I started the first part of the test, which was conjugating words in their "casos" within 2 different "declinaciones." I have 0 clue how to explain this, so we'll just leave it at that.
But then I moved on to the section that was translating sentences, and there were some that were super easy, like the ones we did in class. But there were other sentences that even the people that KNOW Spanish didn't understand, because there were things she never explained to us, and there were things that were in general just more complicated than anything we've done so far.
Now, I know that's normal. The things on the test are a lot of times a little more in depth and complicated than the things in class. However, when I am struggling to understand the language they're teaching me in, for me, it's kind of a nightmare for them to make it even more difficult than normal.
I was sitting there, so lost on some of the sections, and just thinking to myself: If this is how I feel on the test for the class that I actually understand, how am I supposed to understand anything for, say, History, Literature, Economy...?
But thank God I have a super nice teacher for Latin. She came and asked how I was doing and that's when she saw the look on my face that obviously said Uhm are you dumb? Clearly I have no clue what the hell any of this means...
So she gave me some help with the sentences, pointing me in the right direction, telling me the meaning of some of the words, whether translating from Latin to Castellano (Spanish) or Castellano to English.
And there was a section in which we had to explain "Latin Expressions" in Spanish, and I only understood what three of them meant when they were directly translated. However, I had absolutely no clue how to explain them or what to put for the example. So I had to leave them blank.
I took the whole hour to take the test (actually most people did) and when I gave it to her, she was all like "It's okay, I know this section (Latin Expressions) is really hard for you at this point, don't worry about this section. You're doing extremely well in this class. From what I saw when I was helping you, you did a great job on what you had written on the test...blah blah blah." Of course, all of that was in Spanish...
So, I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that test. I know I didn't totally bomb it, because there were things that I understood and knew how to do. Also, as far as the things I didn't know how to do, she helped me with some of them, and others she said not to even worry about at this point. So, I guess I feel alright. But now I'm dreading even more the thought of the other tests...which I'm most definitely going to fail...
Sooooo moral of the story: school here is really damn hard at the beginning....and my grades are literally going to tank.....but hey, I'm having an amazing time, so at this point, it's not bothering me as much as it would have before. I've come to terms with the fact that I can't have everything. I'm having this incredible year in a beautiful place with amazing people (AND DELICIOUS FOOD) but my grades are going to suffer. And yet, I'm okay with that. Because making new friends, finding a new family, living in a new environment, learning a new language, and exploring a new culture is so much more important to me, and I know that for a fact now. So yeah, I guess you could say I'm pretty content.
Now, keep in mind that Latin is somehow my easiest class right now. I understand almost everything in class and I am able to do the homework with almost no problems.
However, when I went in to take that test, I swear my mind went totally blank. I couldn't remember a thing at first. But then after a few minutes of literally just staring at the test and probably looking either crazy or stupid (or quite possibly both), I started to remember things. So, I started the first part of the test, which was conjugating words in their "casos" within 2 different "declinaciones." I have 0 clue how to explain this, so we'll just leave it at that.
But then I moved on to the section that was translating sentences, and there were some that were super easy, like the ones we did in class. But there were other sentences that even the people that KNOW Spanish didn't understand, because there were things she never explained to us, and there were things that were in general just more complicated than anything we've done so far.
Now, I know that's normal. The things on the test are a lot of times a little more in depth and complicated than the things in class. However, when I am struggling to understand the language they're teaching me in, for me, it's kind of a nightmare for them to make it even more difficult than normal.
I was sitting there, so lost on some of the sections, and just thinking to myself: If this is how I feel on the test for the class that I actually understand, how am I supposed to understand anything for, say, History, Literature, Economy...?
But thank God I have a super nice teacher for Latin. She came and asked how I was doing and that's when she saw the look on my face that obviously said Uhm are you dumb? Clearly I have no clue what the hell any of this means...
So she gave me some help with the sentences, pointing me in the right direction, telling me the meaning of some of the words, whether translating from Latin to Castellano (Spanish) or Castellano to English.
And there was a section in which we had to explain "Latin Expressions" in Spanish, and I only understood what three of them meant when they were directly translated. However, I had absolutely no clue how to explain them or what to put for the example. So I had to leave them blank.
I took the whole hour to take the test (actually most people did) and when I gave it to her, she was all like "It's okay, I know this section (Latin Expressions) is really hard for you at this point, don't worry about this section. You're doing extremely well in this class. From what I saw when I was helping you, you did a great job on what you had written on the test...blah blah blah." Of course, all of that was in Spanish...
So, I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that test. I know I didn't totally bomb it, because there were things that I understood and knew how to do. Also, as far as the things I didn't know how to do, she helped me with some of them, and others she said not to even worry about at this point. So, I guess I feel alright. But now I'm dreading even more the thought of the other tests...which I'm most definitely going to fail...
Sooooo moral of the story: school here is really damn hard at the beginning....and my grades are literally going to tank.....but hey, I'm having an amazing time, so at this point, it's not bothering me as much as it would have before. I've come to terms with the fact that I can't have everything. I'm having this incredible year in a beautiful place with amazing people (AND DELICIOUS FOOD) but my grades are going to suffer. And yet, I'm okay with that. Because making new friends, finding a new family, living in a new environment, learning a new language, and exploring a new culture is so much more important to me, and I know that for a fact now. So yeah, I guess you could say I'm pretty content.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
One down, Nine to go
One month.
One month of more greetings than it feels like I've ever been through. One month of ups that have made me feel like I can do anything in the entire world. One month of downs that have made me feel like I was falling apart.
This has been the longest and shortest month of my entire life. In a way, it feels like I just arrived. It feels like it's gone so fast. Every Friday, I tell Ane how fast the week has gone. And every Sunday night, I feel like I hardly had a weekend. At the same time, when I think about where I started, I feel like I've come so far. It feels like years ago that I met my family, because I'm so comfortable with all of them now. It feels like years ago that I arrived at school for the first time. It feels like Bilbao is my city and has been my city for my whole life. I feel so adjusted and comfortable to the way life is here, as if I've always lived it.
This has been the hardest month of my life, but it's also been the most inspiring and humbling. Just this month, I've learned so much Spanish. I already knew a lot, but when I arrived here, I honestly couldn't understand ANYONE, and now I can understand A LOT. Talking is still the most difficult thing for me, but everyone tells me I speak really well for only having been here for a month.
This month, I've seen the tragedy of loss, and I've lived it first hand, away from those I would normally lean on. I felt an emptiness I haven't felt in a long time. But it brought me closer to my host family, and it showed me that they really are here for me. That they are my family now, too. They are not just a family I am staying with...they are a part of me now. I love them so much, and I can't even express my gratefulness for them.
This month, I have ached for all that I have ever known, all that I have ever loved. But I've also seen beauty I could never have imagined. I've made new friends that I truly care about, that I truly feel comfortable with. I've made a new family that I can't imagine living without now. I've found a new home for myself.
I've grown, I've changed, and I've matured. In only one month, I've grown to feel stronger, more independent, and more confident than I've ever felt in my whole life. This short month has brought me one step closer to who I am. It's easy to think you know yourself when you're around everything you've ever known. Because yes, you know yourself in that environment, you know who it has made you. But no, you don't know yourself. You don't know the real you. And I've realized that. Being lost here and having to find my way does not bring me closer to finding my old life. Being lost here and having to find my way is bringing me closer to finding my new one, my real one. Being lost here and having to find my way is bringing me one step closer to finding myself. I can feel myself growing, I can feel myself rising, I can feel myself finding the way. And that's something I never could have imagined.
One month has already changed every aspect of my life. One month that has been the toughest, most frustrating, most agonizing month of my life. But one month that has been the most inspiring, the most humbling, and the most incredible month of my life.
Thank you to everyone who has made this month amazing. PS I still miss everyone back home, of course.
One month down...I simply cannot wait to live it up during the next 9.
One month of more greetings than it feels like I've ever been through. One month of ups that have made me feel like I can do anything in the entire world. One month of downs that have made me feel like I was falling apart.
This has been the longest and shortest month of my entire life. In a way, it feels like I just arrived. It feels like it's gone so fast. Every Friday, I tell Ane how fast the week has gone. And every Sunday night, I feel like I hardly had a weekend. At the same time, when I think about where I started, I feel like I've come so far. It feels like years ago that I met my family, because I'm so comfortable with all of them now. It feels like years ago that I arrived at school for the first time. It feels like Bilbao is my city and has been my city for my whole life. I feel so adjusted and comfortable to the way life is here, as if I've always lived it.
This has been the hardest month of my life, but it's also been the most inspiring and humbling. Just this month, I've learned so much Spanish. I already knew a lot, but when I arrived here, I honestly couldn't understand ANYONE, and now I can understand A LOT. Talking is still the most difficult thing for me, but everyone tells me I speak really well for only having been here for a month.
This month, I've seen the tragedy of loss, and I've lived it first hand, away from those I would normally lean on. I felt an emptiness I haven't felt in a long time. But it brought me closer to my host family, and it showed me that they really are here for me. That they are my family now, too. They are not just a family I am staying with...they are a part of me now. I love them so much, and I can't even express my gratefulness for them.
This month, I have ached for all that I have ever known, all that I have ever loved. But I've also seen beauty I could never have imagined. I've made new friends that I truly care about, that I truly feel comfortable with. I've made a new family that I can't imagine living without now. I've found a new home for myself.
I've grown, I've changed, and I've matured. In only one month, I've grown to feel stronger, more independent, and more confident than I've ever felt in my whole life. This short month has brought me one step closer to who I am. It's easy to think you know yourself when you're around everything you've ever known. Because yes, you know yourself in that environment, you know who it has made you. But no, you don't know yourself. You don't know the real you. And I've realized that. Being lost here and having to find my way does not bring me closer to finding my old life. Being lost here and having to find my way is bringing me closer to finding my new one, my real one. Being lost here and having to find my way is bringing me one step closer to finding myself. I can feel myself growing, I can feel myself rising, I can feel myself finding the way. And that's something I never could have imagined.
One month has already changed every aspect of my life. One month that has been the toughest, most frustrating, most agonizing month of my life. But one month that has been the most inspiring, the most humbling, and the most incredible month of my life.
Thank you to everyone who has made this month amazing. PS I still miss everyone back home, of course.
One month down...I simply cannot wait to live it up during the next 9.
Monday, October 6, 2014
Discoteca Disaster
So, I've quite the story for you guys. It's kind of funny in an Are you joking? kind of way...or at least that's how it is for me.
Okay, so last week, Ane and I got invited to go to a discoteca...I was literally beyond excited. A discoteca, for those of you who are culturally handicapped, is basically a club with music and drinks and tons of dancing teens. They're extremely popular here, and we don't exactly have them in the US. I mean, I've heard of teen dance clubs like at the beach and stuff, but there are no "discotecas" in the US.
So anywho, I was SO excited. So Ane and I looked through all our clothes and tried on just about every dress to decide what to wear. Then we bought these ridiculous heels, that I'm obsessed with, but they make my feet want to shrivel up and die. (Probably not the best image, sorry.) So we had our outfits planned, and we got ready on Saturday, straightening our hair, putting on makeup, dowsing ourselves in perfume. I mean we were so ready for that party.
So, we waddle our way down to the bus stop, and of course, we had JUST missed the bus, so we had to wait 20 minutes for the next one. And the wind was ridiculous. We had to stand against a wall and hold our dresses down so they wouldn't fly up...I wasn't trying to have a Marilyn Monroe moment...
We get on the bus, finally, and there are no seats...so we had to stand on a wobbly bus for 20 minutes with everyone staring at us like, Why the hell are they dressed like that?
Then we had to get on the metro for about 10-15 minutes, and of course, there are no seats there either...I mean, why would there be seats for us when we're wearing probably the worst possible outfits for the metro??
So, finally we get to Barakaldo, where the party was. But no, we weren't going directly to the party, but we also weren't exactly doing anything else either. We just sat in this little plaza for like 45 minutes, while it was getting really cold, and I thought my feet might fall off, even before we could start dancing.
Eventually, we make our way down to the club, and there's a huge line...clearly. So we stand in this line, where by the way, there are people just openly smoking weed...pretty different from America, but pretty funny. We finally get up to the door, and of course, they tell me that my student ID card doesn't work to get in. They say it can easily be "falsified" even though the company name and mark is on it....but okay whatever. So they tell me I need my passport to get in, and once I bring it, I can get in.
So Ane and I head to this little park right by the club while our friends and the rest of people in line go inside to dance. We had to call my host dad and ask him to bring my passport to me so we can go inside (and some new shoes, because I was not feeling those heels anymore). But of course, he wasn't even in Mungia (my town), so he had to go home to Mungia, get the stuff, and make his way to Barakaldo.
We waited in this park for about 45 minutes...in the now freezing cold...in little dresses and unbelievably uncomfortable heels and I had no jacket. Then it started to rain...I was like Oh hell no, I am not about to mess up my hair and get soaking wet and freezing before I even get to go inside. So we made our way over to a little cafe by the club. We get a coffee and wait about 45 more minutes, all this time trying to get ahold of my friend who was supposed to go with us, and wasn't answering his phone.
Finally, my host dad shows up, and by that time, there was only an hour left and Ane wanted to go home because we were wet and cold and had been sitting there for an hour and a half and there wasn't much time left.
So, after all that, we ended up going home and eating cold hot dogs.
Soooooo, yeah, that was interesting...
Okay, so last week, Ane and I got invited to go to a discoteca...I was literally beyond excited. A discoteca, for those of you who are culturally handicapped, is basically a club with music and drinks and tons of dancing teens. They're extremely popular here, and we don't exactly have them in the US. I mean, I've heard of teen dance clubs like at the beach and stuff, but there are no "discotecas" in the US.
So anywho, I was SO excited. So Ane and I looked through all our clothes and tried on just about every dress to decide what to wear. Then we bought these ridiculous heels, that I'm obsessed with, but they make my feet want to shrivel up and die. (Probably not the best image, sorry.) So we had our outfits planned, and we got ready on Saturday, straightening our hair, putting on makeup, dowsing ourselves in perfume. I mean we were so ready for that party.
So, we waddle our way down to the bus stop, and of course, we had JUST missed the bus, so we had to wait 20 minutes for the next one. And the wind was ridiculous. We had to stand against a wall and hold our dresses down so they wouldn't fly up...I wasn't trying to have a Marilyn Monroe moment...
We get on the bus, finally, and there are no seats...so we had to stand on a wobbly bus for 20 minutes with everyone staring at us like, Why the hell are they dressed like that?
Then we had to get on the metro for about 10-15 minutes, and of course, there are no seats there either...I mean, why would there be seats for us when we're wearing probably the worst possible outfits for the metro??
So, finally we get to Barakaldo, where the party was. But no, we weren't going directly to the party, but we also weren't exactly doing anything else either. We just sat in this little plaza for like 45 minutes, while it was getting really cold, and I thought my feet might fall off, even before we could start dancing.
Eventually, we make our way down to the club, and there's a huge line...clearly. So we stand in this line, where by the way, there are people just openly smoking weed...pretty different from America, but pretty funny. We finally get up to the door, and of course, they tell me that my student ID card doesn't work to get in. They say it can easily be "falsified" even though the company name and mark is on it....but okay whatever. So they tell me I need my passport to get in, and once I bring it, I can get in.
So Ane and I head to this little park right by the club while our friends and the rest of people in line go inside to dance. We had to call my host dad and ask him to bring my passport to me so we can go inside (and some new shoes, because I was not feeling those heels anymore). But of course, he wasn't even in Mungia (my town), so he had to go home to Mungia, get the stuff, and make his way to Barakaldo.
We waited in this park for about 45 minutes...in the now freezing cold...in little dresses and unbelievably uncomfortable heels and I had no jacket. Then it started to rain...I was like Oh hell no, I am not about to mess up my hair and get soaking wet and freezing before I even get to go inside. So we made our way over to a little cafe by the club. We get a coffee and wait about 45 more minutes, all this time trying to get ahold of my friend who was supposed to go with us, and wasn't answering his phone.
Finally, my host dad shows up, and by that time, there was only an hour left and Ane wanted to go home because we were wet and cold and had been sitting there for an hour and a half and there wasn't much time left.
So, after all that, we ended up going home and eating cold hot dogs.
Soooooo, yeah, that was interesting...
Saturday, October 4, 2014
My whole life
I want to dedicate a post to my amazing parents, without whom I wouldn't be here (in Spain, or quite literally HERE...like on earth). I know a lot of times I take them for granted, or I treat them like they don't mean as much to me as they do, or I say things I shouldn't. But God, I've never met greater people in my life.
My mom...she's been going to school for what feels like forever. She's doing something a lot of people would be too afraid to do...she's going back to school when she has a house full of kids, bills to pay, a life to live. And not only that, but she's getting STRAIGHT A's. She will graduate in December. Words can't describe how proud I am of her. I don't understand how she finds the time to do all her homework, study, get incredible grades, take Autum (my little sister) to all her necessary appointments, tutor, work, clean the house, cook dinners, and do everything else that she does. She's like a freaking superhero. And I know that a lot of times, I demand to be taken to a friend's house, or I get really annoyingly whiny and attitude-y (?) when she asks me to clean something...I feel so bad now that I'm here and I know she doesn't have anyone to help her out like I did or like I could. But she's still going. And I love her for that.
My dad...he works EVERY SINGLE DAY. He works at the bank every day, and Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, he works at a bar/restaurant. And those hours are quite literally ridiculous. I don't understand how he has the energy to always be working. Poor guy never gets a break. But I don't hear him complain...he just does it. Because it's a way to earn money. Money that a lot of times goes to me. Whether it was medical bills for physical therapy, money to go to the movies, money he spends when we go out to eat, or money he sends here every month for me. And a lot of times, I just take it and maybe utter a thank you or say "love ya" and smile really big because I know I got my way. But I want him to know that I really appreciate it.
My parents are my life. They're my best friends in this whole world. They know almost everything, because they've created a relationship where I feel comfortable enough to tell them everything. It's a relationship where I can just blurt out who I like, where I can tell them about drama at school, and where I can confide in them about my feelings.
I didn't realize just how much I'd miss them. I mean obviously I knew I'd miss them like crazy, but I literally miss them every second of the day. Sometimes I miss my house, and sometimes I miss Pennsylvania, and sometimes I miss certain friends, and sometimes I miss my life there, obviously. But it's like the fact that I miss my parents just doesn't go away.
Every morning, I want more than anything to walk downstairs and ask my mom if what I'm wearing is okay or which shoes to wear or if I should wear lipstick. I want to go to our nail appointments together and complain about life and love problems in the car on the way. I want to watch Harry Potter on the living room couch together and eat ice cream.
Every time I see a cool bar or restaurant, I want my dad to be there so we can go in and check it out, because that's kind of our thing. We always go to restaurants or super metropolitan bars together. Whenever I'm in the car, there's always a part of me that wishes I was driving in the car with my dad and playing the music from my phone through a speaker. And I sure as heck miss his cooking and watching really lame TV shows with him on Friday nights.
Every day, I'm doing and seeing things that are amazing, in a beautiful place, and I want more than anything to share it with them, but I can't. I can post pictures, and I can blog, and I can tell them about things when I skype them every other Sunday, but it's just not the same. I just miss them a lot.
I just wanted to write this to let them know just how much I appreciate everything that they do for me. I realize how privileged I am, even if I don't show my appreciation all the time. I know I can be a spoiled brat, and a pain in the rump (that seems like something my dad would say), but I truly am grateful. I would not be in Spain without them. I would not have the things I have without them. I would not believe I could go to Stanford University without them. I would not be confident and independent without them. They've taught me to be strong, to be intelligent, to want to learn, to travel, to be independent, to love like it's no one's business, and to dance horribly (thanks Dad)...I love them more than anything in this world, and I just want them to know that.
My mom...she's been going to school for what feels like forever. She's doing something a lot of people would be too afraid to do...she's going back to school when she has a house full of kids, bills to pay, a life to live. And not only that, but she's getting STRAIGHT A's. She will graduate in December. Words can't describe how proud I am of her. I don't understand how she finds the time to do all her homework, study, get incredible grades, take Autum (my little sister) to all her necessary appointments, tutor, work, clean the house, cook dinners, and do everything else that she does. She's like a freaking superhero. And I know that a lot of times, I demand to be taken to a friend's house, or I get really annoyingly whiny and attitude-y (?) when she asks me to clean something...I feel so bad now that I'm here and I know she doesn't have anyone to help her out like I did or like I could. But she's still going. And I love her for that.
My dad...he works EVERY SINGLE DAY. He works at the bank every day, and Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, he works at a bar/restaurant. And those hours are quite literally ridiculous. I don't understand how he has the energy to always be working. Poor guy never gets a break. But I don't hear him complain...he just does it. Because it's a way to earn money. Money that a lot of times goes to me. Whether it was medical bills for physical therapy, money to go to the movies, money he spends when we go out to eat, or money he sends here every month for me. And a lot of times, I just take it and maybe utter a thank you or say "love ya" and smile really big because I know I got my way. But I want him to know that I really appreciate it.
My parents are my life. They're my best friends in this whole world. They know almost everything, because they've created a relationship where I feel comfortable enough to tell them everything. It's a relationship where I can just blurt out who I like, where I can tell them about drama at school, and where I can confide in them about my feelings.
I didn't realize just how much I'd miss them. I mean obviously I knew I'd miss them like crazy, but I literally miss them every second of the day. Sometimes I miss my house, and sometimes I miss Pennsylvania, and sometimes I miss certain friends, and sometimes I miss my life there, obviously. But it's like the fact that I miss my parents just doesn't go away.
Every morning, I want more than anything to walk downstairs and ask my mom if what I'm wearing is okay or which shoes to wear or if I should wear lipstick. I want to go to our nail appointments together and complain about life and love problems in the car on the way. I want to watch Harry Potter on the living room couch together and eat ice cream.
Every time I see a cool bar or restaurant, I want my dad to be there so we can go in and check it out, because that's kind of our thing. We always go to restaurants or super metropolitan bars together. Whenever I'm in the car, there's always a part of me that wishes I was driving in the car with my dad and playing the music from my phone through a speaker. And I sure as heck miss his cooking and watching really lame TV shows with him on Friday nights.
Every day, I'm doing and seeing things that are amazing, in a beautiful place, and I want more than anything to share it with them, but I can't. I can post pictures, and I can blog, and I can tell them about things when I skype them every other Sunday, but it's just not the same. I just miss them a lot.
I just wanted to write this to let them know just how much I appreciate everything that they do for me. I realize how privileged I am, even if I don't show my appreciation all the time. I know I can be a spoiled brat, and a pain in the rump (that seems like something my dad would say), but I truly am grateful. I would not be in Spain without them. I would not have the things I have without them. I would not believe I could go to Stanford University without them. I would not be confident and independent without them. They've taught me to be strong, to be intelligent, to want to learn, to travel, to be independent, to love like it's no one's business, and to dance horribly (thanks Dad)...I love them more than anything in this world, and I just want them to know that.
Another first
Yesterday was the first time I hung out with my school friends outside of school. Not going to lie, I was pretty nervous. But it was so fun! It's not like we did anything super cool or super fun, we just hung out and walked around Bilbao and ate (of course), but the fun part is being with people that I feel comfortable with.
I'm so beyond glad I've found people that I really feel comfortable with. There's these two girls who are good friends from school, Andrea and Alazne. They're pretty crazy, but I love it because so am I. But honestly, they are some of the nicest, kindest, funniest, most caring people I've ever met. And they've got huge hearts. For them to take me under their wing from the beginning and show me the way when I was lost, I can't thank them enough.
I have no real way of knowing how exactly they feel about this situation, but I DO know how I feel. I feel like I've finally found these people that accept me for the way I am, people I feel comfortable with, people I feel like I can really be myself with. And I hope with everything that I have that we can end up being best friends.
Okay, anywho, enough with the touching monologue...there were other kids from school, some that I know, some that I don't, but they are all hilarious, friendly, and welcoming. And not only just to me, but to my sister, too. She is new to the school, just like I am, so we're both kind of going through the same readjusting situation. We both have to make new friends, and at times it can be awkward or scary or nerve-wracking, but we're doing it together. And these kids from school are seriously awesome. Everyone I've met with Andrea and Alazne have been so great, so I'm grateful to not only the kids, but to Andrea and Alazne for having introduced me to all these amazing people.
And oh how great the end of the night was. Ane and I got on the metro at about 9:45, the same metro we always take to get to the center of the city where the buses are...and what do you know...we get on the wrong train...the one going the opposite direction...GOOD JOB. Like I have no idea how we did that, but it was a good laugh.
Then at the next stop, we got off and switched to the other side of the station to take the metro THE RIGHT WAY, and Ane almost fell down the stairs. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, and I still laugh when I think about it. Let's just say it was a great way to end the night.
I'm so beyond glad I've found people that I really feel comfortable with. There's these two girls who are good friends from school, Andrea and Alazne. They're pretty crazy, but I love it because so am I. But honestly, they are some of the nicest, kindest, funniest, most caring people I've ever met. And they've got huge hearts. For them to take me under their wing from the beginning and show me the way when I was lost, I can't thank them enough.
I have no real way of knowing how exactly they feel about this situation, but I DO know how I feel. I feel like I've finally found these people that accept me for the way I am, people I feel comfortable with, people I feel like I can really be myself with. And I hope with everything that I have that we can end up being best friends.
Okay, anywho, enough with the touching monologue...there were other kids from school, some that I know, some that I don't, but they are all hilarious, friendly, and welcoming. And not only just to me, but to my sister, too. She is new to the school, just like I am, so we're both kind of going through the same readjusting situation. We both have to make new friends, and at times it can be awkward or scary or nerve-wracking, but we're doing it together. And these kids from school are seriously awesome. Everyone I've met with Andrea and Alazne have been so great, so I'm grateful to not only the kids, but to Andrea and Alazne for having introduced me to all these amazing people.
And oh how great the end of the night was. Ane and I got on the metro at about 9:45, the same metro we always take to get to the center of the city where the buses are...and what do you know...we get on the wrong train...the one going the opposite direction...GOOD JOB. Like I have no idea how we did that, but it was a good laugh.
Then at the next stop, we got off and switched to the other side of the station to take the metro THE RIGHT WAY, and Ane almost fell down the stairs. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, and I still laugh when I think about it. Let's just say it was a great way to end the night.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Making a Difference
I am not, nor do I think I will ever be a famous writer, nor philosopher, nor scientist, nor activist, nor politician, nor anything that's going to change the world. I probably won't find the cure for cancer; I'm probably not going to discover a new planet; I probably won't find a new way to answer an otherwise, previously unanswered question about existence or life or what comes after it; and I'm probably not going to write a break-through novel that will hit #1 on all the charts and change lives like the way some incredible books have changed mine. Is it possible? Yes, I suppose so...Is it probable? No, not so much.
I mean don't get me wrong, I have faith in my life turning out to be everything I've always wanted it to be, and I'm going to reach for the stars when it comes to the life I'm going to live. I expect it to be nothing less than spectacular...But for me to think that a life can only be spectacular if you reach the eyes or ears of all the world, that's so impractical, so egocentric, and so inaccurate. So, I won't think that. I used to..I used to think the only way I could make a difference was by being famous, by having my opinion publicly aired on every TV in America, by getting hundreds or thousands or millions of people to believe what I do. But here's the thing, you don't have to push your way into the minds of millions to make a difference. You can make a difference with a single word, with one smile, with a fleeting glance, with a gentle touch. You can make a difference by being there...just as you are...for those that you love more than anything in this world, for those that you don't yet know, and even for those that you don't particularly get along with.
This blog is my way of making a difference. No, not everyone reads my blog...there aren't many people who do. But that's okay, I don't need everyone to read it. Not everyone would understand it. But when someone takes the time to reach out to me and say, "Hey Bri, I read your blog, it's awesome, I love reading it!!" or "Hey Bri, you're a great writer!" or "Hey Bri, I totally agree with this blog post," or "Hey Bri, I definitely know how you feel. I thought it was just me!" or the best one I've heard, "Hey Bri, your blog has inspired me." Those are the things that make me happy. To know that for at least one second, I made a difference.
I'm not changing the world, and I'm probably not changing anyone's life, but hey, I'm making someone else feel a little better, helping someone relate, writing and publishing the words that others may be too afraid to write, or may not have the ability to write. I don't have to change the world. If I can make someone feel something for even a split second, I've accomplished all I could hope for.
That's what I love about reading and writing...it's sharing a perspective. And while, yeah, there's going to be a million people that don't feel the same way, there will someday be one person that feels the exact same thing, and that's something you can share with that person, whether they know it or not. And that's enough for me.
And now, I leave you all with a quote in the words of John Green, from my favorite book on this earth, The Fault in Our Stars: "People will say it's sad that she leaves a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it's not sad, Van Houten. It's triumphant. It's heroic."
I mean don't get me wrong, I have faith in my life turning out to be everything I've always wanted it to be, and I'm going to reach for the stars when it comes to the life I'm going to live. I expect it to be nothing less than spectacular...But for me to think that a life can only be spectacular if you reach the eyes or ears of all the world, that's so impractical, so egocentric, and so inaccurate. So, I won't think that. I used to..I used to think the only way I could make a difference was by being famous, by having my opinion publicly aired on every TV in America, by getting hundreds or thousands or millions of people to believe what I do. But here's the thing, you don't have to push your way into the minds of millions to make a difference. You can make a difference with a single word, with one smile, with a fleeting glance, with a gentle touch. You can make a difference by being there...just as you are...for those that you love more than anything in this world, for those that you don't yet know, and even for those that you don't particularly get along with.
This blog is my way of making a difference. No, not everyone reads my blog...there aren't many people who do. But that's okay, I don't need everyone to read it. Not everyone would understand it. But when someone takes the time to reach out to me and say, "Hey Bri, I read your blog, it's awesome, I love reading it!!" or "Hey Bri, you're a great writer!" or "Hey Bri, I totally agree with this blog post," or "Hey Bri, I definitely know how you feel. I thought it was just me!" or the best one I've heard, "Hey Bri, your blog has inspired me." Those are the things that make me happy. To know that for at least one second, I made a difference.
I'm not changing the world, and I'm probably not changing anyone's life, but hey, I'm making someone else feel a little better, helping someone relate, writing and publishing the words that others may be too afraid to write, or may not have the ability to write. I don't have to change the world. If I can make someone feel something for even a split second, I've accomplished all I could hope for.
That's what I love about reading and writing...it's sharing a perspective. And while, yeah, there's going to be a million people that don't feel the same way, there will someday be one person that feels the exact same thing, and that's something you can share with that person, whether they know it or not. And that's enough for me.
And now, I leave you all with a quote in the words of John Green, from my favorite book on this earth, The Fault in Our Stars: "People will say it's sad that she leaves a lesser scar, that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply but not widely. But it's not sad, Van Houten. It's triumphant. It's heroic."
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