If Casablanca's Problems Don't Amount to A Hill of Beans in This Crazy World, Then I'm Screwed

One of my favorite games to play when I was in Europe last year (I can't believe it has already been a year) was a kind of "what if" game. "What would I be doing if I were not Studying Abroad right now?" It was always a fun game to play. Because, trust me, no matter what I was doing in England is was a heck of a lot more exciting than whatever I could be doing in Tucson, Arizona. Even if it was just sleeping... I was sleeping in ENGLAND... hmmm.... Tucson.... England... *weighs scales* yea... I think England wins out on the "excitement" factor inherently.

One day, while Katie and I were walking though Rome, I stopped to think about what I'd really be doing in I weren't walking around in Rome, truly think about it. It was about 5 pm, the sun was looking like it might set in the next few hours, and we were about 100 yards away from the Colosseum. It was 7 am in Phoenix. If I hadn't gotten an internship, or traveled somewhere, or something like that, I'd have a job. I'd be working. I'd be getting up, and doing something very adulty in 125 degree phoenix summer heat. ew. And then it occurred to me, right now I know what I'm doing if I'm not here. I'm working. Probably for a hospital, or some cooperation, or possibly the government. But I know what I'm doing instead. And I certainly know that life has nothing nearly as exciting as walking up to the Colosseum going on in Phoenix in the summer. But after graduation... I don't know. If I move back to Europe (and that includes England) or if I stay home, or if I move to New York or San Fransisco or Washington D.C., or heck, even Seattle, I have no idea what might happen. Everywhere will be different. I don't know who I might meet or what I might do...

I want to move back to England. But as graduation looms closer I start to realize that this really is it. I'm done with my childhood. I graduated from college, at least as an undergraduate, and that is really the major thing, right? In years to come I might go back to school, but from May 16th onward, all my choices are any one's guess. Nothing will be set. I can never guess what I might be doing anywhere else. I mean sure, I guess I could try to guess what I might be doing if I lived in my hometown, but still... I'd be a far off shot.

Who Are You to Lead These People?

I HATE sharing things. Hate Hate Hate Hate. And I don't mean physical things. Sure, you can borrow my blanket, or have some of my apple, or wear my skirt. Whatever. Those things are incredibly unimportant. No, I mean I have an intense aversion to sharing personal things, like thoughts, dreams, memories and the whatnot.

And it's not just the fact that I feel vulnerable. Haha, I wish that were all. I mean, I hear the little voice in my mind that warns me that I'm being absurdly open, but if it were just a little voice that I had to overcome it'd be a much smaller job. I think I have a physical aversion to sharing as well. I get all shaky, my legs shake like I have shivers from the cold, my teeth chatter to the point where I can barely speak, my hands fidget so that anything that can be torn up around me will be utterly destroyed, my breath can't be caught and I just go completely weak, and huge tears well up and completely blind me (and since crying is one of my LEAST favorite activities this one might be the worst aspect, for me). So in order for me to actually get over all of it and talk about the more intimate aspects of life I don't just overcome that general need to self-protect. oh no. It is soooo much more.

I know that I'm generally very personable. Sure. Why not? I can talk to anybody about nothing forever, but if the subject ever gets too close to home... well, let's just say that it usually dosen't ever get too close.

I don't know what makes me so uncomfortable. I don't know if everyone experiences things like this. Maybe I'm just a suuuper private person. That's what I've always attributed it to anyway. But lately, I'm starting to think I might be wrong on that one.