that one time i lived in rome

Last summer I lived in Rome for 6 weeks; this summer I'm stuck at home and taking an LSAT class. First I wonder what I did wrong in a past life, to go from the most amazing summer ever to one where I sit in a class for 4.5 hours twice a week and cry look over logic games.

My roommate met me at the airport with a steak burrito (she's the best I swear!) in tow and asked me "Do you feel different?". I promptly responded and told her "Of course I do. My liver hurts like a bitch..." But I'm pretty sure that's not the answer she was looking for; then again if my liver ever put me out of commission she loses her favorite alcoholic. (Disregarding the trip to the emergency room...whoops)

Rome was amazing, the people were fanfuckingtastic, and despite eating my weight in gelato, pizza and pasta, I lost weight. It was a win-win situation, even if you factor in "sweating your taint off", but I think (thanks Google) only men have that. I think the only things I don't miss are sweating and the fear of being gypsie'd (I made my own verb! Suck it Rachael Ray).

Nothing really big happened in Rome. There weren't any moments that shook me to the core. No big spectacular earth shattering thing. But the experience was unforgettable. It's funny that I can't pinpoint one single event in Rome that was particularly phenomenal, but when I combine everything; it resulted in something bigger than anything I've ever experienced. But that could be attributed to me being a mere fetus at 20, and not having really lived very much.

I think Rome falls under the category of big occurrences. However it was one of those things where one particular moment didn't stand out, instead it was the overall experience that turned out to be an all consuming thing. It didn't feel big or serious at the time. I was merely living in the moment, especially those times we justhadtopeethisverysecond and peed outside... But looking back at the situation, that was it (well maybe not the drunken public urination). Simply living our daily lives was the big event in Rome.

The drunken walks stumbles home from Campo de Fiore, walking through the meandering alleys on the way to school, climbing the 5 flights of stairs(!!!), nearly getting taken at Mood (where American girls go to die or a brothel...not sure we got our free shots and ran out, hence why I'm still alive),, the Real Worldesque moment of walking in on someone naked and in the middle of sexytimes; all of these things seemed small and insignificant in the present, but they ended up making the experience (even in the constantly hungover state).

We were all just living. Even the mundane task of grocery shopping is now an event to me in hindsight. Maybe I'm putting Rome on a pedestal and maybe it wasn't the OMGAMAZING thing that I'm making it out to be (IT WAS), but it definitely changed me. It changed me in all the little ways that I didn't realize until someone pointed it out for me. Then again I don't notice very much, like when Alex dyed her hair orange by accident and I didn't notice til 2 days in since she started crying and saying "ORAAAANGE", and then I finally got it.

Rome and its affect (yes that's the right one) on me is kind of like that minus no melodramatic crying over hair color. Orange is my favorite color by the way, which I tried to tell Alex, but she couldn't hear me over her own wailing.

A year later and I've finally grasped the lessons from Rome; I can drink way more than I expected and chug beer well enough to earn a t-shirt. And I'm not as dependent or needy as I thought. That I can go somewhere completely foreign and adjust quickly. And other lessons of the sort, drinking and otherwise.

My foray into blogging ROUND 2

Due to me being an idiot and well I'm just going to blame Internet malfunctions as well, I accidentally deleted my first two posts :(. I'm dying inside I know.

I started this blog against the protests of one of my friends whose sole purpose in life is to mentor me aka tells me how to function through my life endeavors. The only reason she gets to be my mentor (what a lame and mushy sounding word) guru (okay more awesome word) is because she shares the same name as Helen Keller's mentor and BFF, and let's face it, what was good enough for good ol' Helen is good enough for me. Now let's hope I become totally amazing and warrant a Wikipedia page (GOAL IN LIFE) since I picked Helen's BFF's name twin.

So due to my rebellious (I wish) nature, I created a blog. Thus doing so has made me become one of those people. This is how people felt when cell phones first came out. "What self important prick thinks they need to be in contact with everyone at EVERY hour of the day?!" Well, all of us apparently. Now it's "Who DOESN'T have a cellphone?! What are you a hermit?!" Yet hermits probably have cell phones too, but I don't know about their reception; hopefully they have Verizon(unless they are a hermit with an iPhone where I am jealous of the hermit but take satisfaction that they can't call anyone due to ATT being shitty). The homeless man at the Prudential T stop has like 3 cell phones, and I see him charging them there every day. Even my 10 year old cousin has a cell phone.

So before it gets to the point where the question becomes "Who doesn't have a blog?", I made one. I'm years late, but I'm not super late where little prepubescent beings invade blogspot and wordpresss. Since that spells the death of things. But I want to use this to segue into announcing I've never had a Myspace. Now that I think about it, I'm sure my cousin will pop up with a blog anytime now. She already has a Youtube channel where she makes her own music videos... I wish I was kidding.

We're in a society that loves being connected, hello the rise of Twitter and Facebook, and that stupid fail Microsoft phone the Kin. I'm someone with severe attention issues, so it naturally made sense for me to make a blog. Blame my parents for that issue. So I did have a blog when Livejournal ruled the blogging realm, which was during my formative angsty teenage years wheretheworldwasouttogetme.

I hope that this blog isn't just one of my phases though. I'm the type of person who gets obsessed with something, and I mean really obsessed, and then I lose interest. I think that's what they call ADD though, which I have been told I have by several people; but I'm pretty sure everyone in our generation has it. I do this with food, hobbies, people, sporting events, even colors.

When I was little I used to go to Costco with my dad. As everyone knows Costco's packages of food can feed villages for a year. I would pick out something, eat it for 2 weeks straight and then never want to touch it again. This happened with chicken teriyaki skewers and now I can't eat teriyaki anymore! Due to this tendency my dad canceled our Costco card and I was devastated, since Costco was my Disneyland (now replaced with IKEA!). But my Costco issue has been resolved since now I'm an executive member with my own card! I win dad!

And just like my first post, I've gone off 39482 tangents in one post. AWESOME. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm once again blaming my parents for this one. As with all my other life issues, like my abandonment ones.