Madrid.

This city is amazing. it reminds me of a european chicago. it's interesting. 

The hotel is super nice. it's very cutsies. it has one of those butt washer things. and clear doors to the bathroom, makes me uncomfortable. 

We walked around the beautiful city today. Got a little turned around, but it was amazing how easily we found our way, it was like I just knew where to go. It was such a fabulous little day. 

I did manage to find a few gems in the bunch that are really good company. :)

 

ordered food in spanish. payed in euros. so that was cool. 

There's this awesome sandwich place right around the corner from the hotel. they are famous for their 100 different creations. I got number 66. it was sooo delicious. 

We took a bus tour of the city just as the sun was setting. it was so beautiful. saw the royal palace, all the amazing architecture. i was so exhausted though, i was drifting in and out of sleep throughout the drive around. 

Grabbed another bite to eat at the sandwich place, got our phones, had a group meeting. 

Tomorrow we have breakfast early in the morning, a walking tour of madrid.( i have to pick out my outfit tongiht, my boots, which are NOT worn in yet gave the bottoms of my feet blisters. how is that possible??) then we're going to this really famous art museum, Prado. then we have the rest of the day for free time, walking around, checking out the cool stores and little bistros around. 

It was sunny, clear skies, not a cloud in site today. about 55 degrees. wore a light jacket and my flats around the city. it was so perfect. 

I am in love already!!

It is finally here.

In merely minutes it will be tomorrow, which is the day I leave for Spain.
I have already peed my pants about 7 times (in the last hour) out of excitement.

Despite all the nightmares about losing my luggage, getting lost, wandering down a shady alleyway, I think I am finally ready.

I cannot wait for all the new adventures I have ahead of me and the new trails I am about to blaze. I have come a long way in the preparations for this trip, mentally, emotionally, physically (have you seen all the shit I packed???), and the time has come to release the stresses and begin to truly and without doubt enjoy life and seize all opportunities.

This is it- watch me fly.

A Vivid Dream

I walked a long way; it took me a significant amount of time and effort to get there. I walked down long paved roads, and finally I cut down an overgrown path that led me into a patch of rich woods. It wasn’t too dense, though;  sunlight peeked through the leaves. I finally stepped in front of a low-hanging tree branch and looked out at what was on the other side of the woods. I saw a large, 5 or 6 story modern-looking building to my left. It looked like one of the newer ones on campus downtown. There was a long sidewalk the lead from that building to the one directly in front of where I was crouched down. Cars were neatly parked out front, and a wider pathway lead from the sidewalk, under a long awning, and into the taller, newer-looking building. 

Through the window of a dark colored car, between the front bumper of another and an out-of-focus campus sign, I saw him. He was the third person I saw about to enter the building of classrooms. The two others before him were talking and had already headed in through the doors. I saw them from the corner of my eye. He was smoking a cigarette, but doing so timidly, as he had never been much of a tough guy when no one was looking. He seemed tense, his gaze was at nothing in particular and he was in deep thought. 

He flicked the butt of the cigarette away as a group of 4 or 5 peers acknowledged him. He waved and his face went from a look of a complexity to a soft, but wide smile. He joined the pack of the others and the group started toward the awning. 

I became self-aware. I noticed my breathing. I could hear my heart beating. As my thoughts floated upward like thought bubbles in a cartoon, he looked over his shoulder. He wouldn’t have seen me in that short time he turned his head, as I was probably about 100 feet from where he was walking. I’m not sure what caused him to suddenly look back. I still wonder. 

I looked up at the sky when he glanced forward again and he continued on toward the door. Storm clouds were twirling overhead, and quickly. The grass grew a darker shade of green; the windows on the buildings reflected a cloudy dark gray. Despite being under the awning, which protected them from the rain that was about to surely begin, everyone in the group started running, all in different directions. It was slow, like the movies when something dramatic happens. It was only after they had run into the middle of the parking lot that the rain had commenced. 

My attention focused on close-ups of concerned faces. 

A raindrop disappeared into a puddle. 

A girl’s shoes hit the pavement and kicked up water. 

Then I saw him sprinting straight toward me. He wasn’t wet though, unlike the others, who were drenched and still running around, now aimlessly. He and I made eye contact. I crouched lower, pulling a leafy branch in front of my face. He called out from about 6 feet away, “You know I can see you, right?” I nodded, still behind the foliage. Then I popped my head out, my hair was wet. “I know,” I said. 

Then we were inside the building. Only it didn't house classrooms and lecture halls as I had thought. It looked like this car dealership I go to sometimes to get my oil changed. I saw some new models of cars on display as we walked in the door. We turned right, into a room with 3 couches, one on each wall to the left, right, and in front of us. We sat at the one to the right. There was a small end table in each corner. There were colorful magazines and a small lamp on one. 

I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them again, I was lying on the couch on my side, my legs extended, and my arms folded under me to prop my upper body up. He was sitting on a coffee table in front of me that hadn’t been there when we first walked in. 

I realized this had been the first time we saw each other since the day I told him it was over. Upon this realization, I began to cry. They were easy tears, ones that filled up in my eyes and dropped on my checks even without blinking. I gathered enough courage to look up at him. All I could say was, “I’m sorry" And his eyes were glimmering from wetness too. 

He pulled me closer, my head in that familiar spot nestled in his neck. He said back, “I know.” He hugged me for a while. It is so lovely to be held, I thought to myself. I had been so long that I had really been held. I felt warm. I felt loved. I felt like I was home. It was such an amazing feeling, and I didn’t want it to end. I snuggled in closer, still sobbing, this time much wilder and noisily. He was gently “shh”ing me. Which was okay with. 

Then something changed. The room felt smaller. Lights felt less white-like, less crisp, everything fuzzier. My eyes opened and I glanced around while still in his arms. The couch opposite of the one I was on was closer than I remembered. Suddenly he was sitting on it; the coffee table now gone. Then I collapsed into his loving lap. We sat that way for a while. The lights grew even dimmer, redder, warmer. 

Then he moved one of his hands to my hair. He caressed my head, ran fingers through my hair. It was nice to be touched so tenderly. His hand then moved to my breast. He fondled it, gently rubbed it. At that moment I was thinking both about how nice it was to be seduced, and also how uncomfortable it made me. 

This is weird, I said in my head. Why was I uncomfortable? What had changed? 

I squirmed. Lifted my head out of his neck and off his shoulder. His grasp tightened as I rejected the touching. I stayed that way for some time, still desiring being held, while also feeling smothered. 

Quietly and softly, the furniture faded away, and then the walls didn’t exist. All that was left in the room then was he and I as one unit, and my thoughts buzzing around our heads. My thoughts were loud; they were fast. They were crowding up the room.  It was as though we were surrounded by thick smoke, or driving through fog at night. He didn’t seem to take notice, but I couldn’t breathe or see, and I started to panic. 

Why don’t I want this, I thought. What am I doing? I pulled away quickly. I stood up in front of him. He was startled, his hands frozen where I had pushed them away to escape. I took one last look into his beautiful eyes. They looked sad. I’m sure mine did too. Then I turned toward where the new cars had been. The cars weren’t there. The cubicles, the tall walls, the clean carpet was gone. The dark, wooded area I walked through earlier was there instead. It looked the same; I could see the tree branch I hid behind. 

All that was different was that I couldn’t see the sunlight through the trees anymore. 

Acting like Summer and Walking like Rain

The song "Drops of Jupiter", by Train is the best song ever recorded/sung/written/heard. It is my favorite song, and I have been singing it in my head for about 10 years now it feels.
Push play, then continue reading:

This song speaks to me in so many different ways, it’s hard for me to think of ways it doesn’t reflect emotions or abstract and seemingly odd fleeting thoughts I’ve had. I particularly enjoy how it’s about this person, maybe his dream girl who went on a long journey and is now back, somehow changed, for the better it seems, but he absolutely missed her. This journey, this trip she went on was not one of choice, but rather of necessity, she needed to find herself, she needed to search for what is out there in the world, what she can give and show to others, because she is quite the giver. The writer is looking for a way for her to prove him right, that this trip wasn’t actually a necessity, that maybe it wasn’t all that great. But it was, god dammit it was. He’s worried that she’ll look at him like he’s inferior to her, that he never did make the leap like she did.

Although it doesn’t say it, I don’t think she feels that way. I think she loves him just the same. He doesn’t have to prove his love to her, she will know that it is there, despite having to leave and come back to find it again. She knows she is different, she seeks more from the world, always curious, and that he isn’t that way. And it is ok.

I can’t help but think about how this song transforms itself to mean something more than weird metaphors and about the lead singer’s dying mother. This song has helped me to see that it is ok for me to want more than the life I have in front of me. It is ok to leave people behind, because I have a right to go out and seek more from the world. I cannot love others the way they deserve until I can truly love myself. And If I have to put an ocean in between those people and myself until I figure it out, then so be it; see you when I get back

Although I cannot wait another day to leave, I am just as scared as the next person. I am terrified to leave my mother, to not be available 24/7 as I am now to my best friend. I am scared my luggage will get lost, I will spend way too much money, and that I over packed. I am so scared mostly, though, knowing that when that plane takes off and it’s wheels fold up and the plane ascends, that that moment will be the last time I am home while being the person I am.

I will change. I will grow. I will probably drink too much, stay out too late, kiss strangers, eat too much, fall on my face, take too many pictures, drink in every fucking moment around me, meet amazing people who become lifelong friends, cry out of pure happiness, learn to finally love myself, trace my way around the constellation, and get a little Jupiter stuck in my hair. While I don’t intend to change, it is inevitable. Never again will I be the person I am at this moment. I am now leaving for 4 months. I will not see Oreos or peanut butter or Wonderbread until May. I know my best friend, my mother, my bedroom, and my dog will still be there when I return, and frankly those are the only things I am concerned with. Because I don’t have as much to say goodbye to for this trip, it just makes me realize even further that this is my trip. I am going for myself and myself only. It also feels strange that for the first time in my life I do not have an obligation to follow rules or act in a particular way, and that I have absolutely no limitations to my experiences in Spain except that of my wallet and of time.

I know that I feel this freedom because of all of the changing and growing I have gone through in the last year, but it is also because listening to “Drops of Jupiter” has lifted me out of my dark place; it has shown me that I am not weak, that it is ok to be curious and to demand more from the world, the universe. This song is my warm, happy place. It is the song that speaks to me in a way that is very difficult to describe; it is my “soul song”, as I like to call it.

So now as my final preparations and panicked packing come to an end and while these few short days pass by, I only can remember the conversation I had with my mom while in the car on the way to the airport when I was leaving for Nicaragua. Weeks before the trip, I had acted so tough, so strong, saying things like “I can’t wait to get out of here”, “God, I need a break from this place”, etc. but the second I heard my mother’s voice on the phone in the car, I lost it. I sniffled away tears and I said to her, “Mom, I don’t want to go anymore. Can’t I just come home?” and she responded by saying, “No, Tara, you have to go. You have to do this and I will be here when you get back.” 

I felt freer knowing that I had to do this and that someone agreed. This time around, before I leave for Spain, I feel freedom knowing I never needed that validation in the first place.

And I know that despite being uncertain and having doubts, I will never be a plain ol' Jane who is too afraid to fly. 

Spain Preparations omgomgomgomg

I am an expert packer.
16 shirts
4 pairs of jeans
5 dresses
16 tank tops
4 t-shirts
5 yoga pants/work out/pj shorts
6 jackets/blazers
16 pairs of undies
2 bras
5 cardigans
3 scarves
6 skirts
7 pairs of socks
1 swim suit

Of course this is just the first tier of my packing process, I intend on cutting this in half, because who the tits needs 16 tank tops??
In my defense, Europeans are very concerned with outward appearance and are generally very forward and vocal about it. I have to look my best at all times. No more hoodies and tennis shoes and shitty jeans.
I will be the new face of America, very trendy and awesome- looking. Or something...

I also got all of this:

Condensed down to this using Hefty Jumbo 2.5 Gal Bags:

A Vow.

I am going to try not to talk about my past relationships or my problems or mistakes or to complain or whine or worry for 2013. I am sick of analyzing and picking apart my life/choices/relationships. This is the year of feeling good. For real. Not worried about repercussions, or how it will look to others, or what it means down the road, or for me as a person. No more big oprah talks or doctor phil theories. I am just simply going to make decisions based on them making me feel good. That's it. It is a choice to be happy and I am choosing to be happy in 2013.

Because, despite our big talks and our coming to jesus moments, we still make the choices we would have made anyway, but maybe we're more aware they are mistakes and that, in turn, makes us feel guilty and crappy, when we are just fulfilling basic instinctive needs and wants, i.e. Happiness, closure, pleasure, lust.

I am sick of feeling guilty for just wanting happiness. I am not bound to anyone, I have no need to put myself and my needs on the back burner. I've done that f or 22 years. I want to know what it's like to just take what I want and, here’s the kicker, not have second thoughts.

So, I am going to Spain, because I choose to. I am going to Florida because I choose to. I am going to the grad program I choose. If I meet someone, it will be my choice if we have a relationship and my choice if we keep it that way or not. If I don't meet someone, that will also be my choice because I am choosing to be happy with myself.

So, it is not because of the new year, but a result of the events of the first few hours of this new year. I whined, I took pity on myself, I sad cried, I was lonely and wondered why no one texted/called. I did not appreciate what I had right in front of me. if I didn't want to be lonely, I didn't have to be, but I let that feeling win yet again. I talk about myself way too much, and I don't do enough listening and asking before I judge and wonder how I would do things differently. This is a backlash that's gone too far of being in a committed relationship for so long, and now I am in need of striking a balance between the two ways of life. So it's not just because it's a new year, a new day, or whatever, but I'm just glad it falls coincidentally on this day of realization, because it looks better on my calendar that way and I can better track my progress. Also I can call it my new year's resolution.

I have convinced myself of many things

I am convinced that no one will ever love me in the way, with the strength and passion, that he did. I do not think any person on this earth or in the universe can give that love to someone else. I am convinced that it was the only love that ever existed, the only love that ever was or ever will be. I am convinced that an old, now deceased man with shaky hands whose only purpose was this one task, crafted this love out of the most beautiful wood there ever was, from the tallest, greenest tree that ever grew. I am convinced that this love was so real it could be touched, you could literally feel it in the room, anyone could feel it in the room. I am convinced that it was for me and only for me.

Let me tell you what it was like:

Well, I can't, actually, not with words that won't ruin it or with comparisons that don't do it justice. You can just feel it. You can feel it every single day. There is never a day that you wonder ‘Do I feel love today?’ because you can’t wonder that. You just know that it is there. You can just reach your hand out, open your sleepy eyes and there it is, this thing that was there while you slept. That thing you know will keep you warm when it’s cold and dry when it’s rainy. You know this because it comforted you when your cat died and it swelled with pride when you graduated college with honors and it whispered affirmations and aspirations and hopes and dreams in your ear every single day, whether you were happy or sad or tired or excited or mad. This love held your hand during the sad parts of the stories you read late at night because you couldn’t sleep. This love laughed with you that time you laughed so hard your stomach hurt. This love walked with you so you never felt alone and jumped with you the days you couldn’t keep your excited feet on the ground. This love was every sunset, every shooting star, every deep breath, every tear, every giggle, every grumble, and every stupid, toothy smile. This love was everything. It was a part of you- a limb, a vital organ. It was you.

Everyday you wish you could thank that love for being a part of you. You owe it every bit of gratitude you could absolutely muster. You owe love everything, because without it you realize you are nothing, you are a void, a blackhole. Without love in your life, without this love in your life, it is easy to feel as though you could never feel happiness again. And because of this, you must show this love every appreciation you have, you must tell it every single day that you welcome it, that you want it, that it is everything to you.

And you know that even on those days when you feel nothing but rage and anger and even when you feel like you just want it to go away, you yell at it, “Leave me alone, I don’t want you anymore, Love”. It doesn’t go away. It will stay there and hold you for years, if that’s what it takes, dammit, because it is not letting go no matter how hard your feet flail or how loudly you reject it.

I felt love. But I didn’t know that it was the deepest love in the whole world until it was gone and until I most certainly didn’t deserve it any longer.

It is gone and I am also convinced that not only will I never get that exact love back, but that I will never again feel that loved or that cared for or that precious by anyone ever again.

I ripped it to shreds and even as the last piece fell from my hands and hit the hard dirt, I still walked away and felt nothing as I did it. It's interesting because destroying something that is supposed to be so strong and indestructable with such ease is like seeing your mother crying or when that independent cynic admits she is lonely. You just never thought it would be possible, or that you would have that power. But I did, I had that ability to somehow punch a steel wall only to realize it was actually made of something fragile like butterfly wings or silk cloth. And only now am I realizing what I had and how I broke that. Because when you’re in it, you don’t see that. You can’t believe that it’s real or that it is what it is. It seems like a dream everyday.  You say things to reassure yourself that it isn’t that magnificent thing, it can’t be; nothing can be that great. But it is, it really is; something can actually be real while also being all of those amazing things at once.
But you can’t know that, no one can know that. I didn't know that. Because, of course while you’re in it, you can’t see the outside, you can’t see what it really is, what the love really is.

I had it; I had what every person dreams of. What all the songs are about. What every writer has felt, or wanted to feel and expressed over hundreds of years using eloquent words and beautiful, flowing metaphors. What every teenager hopes is out there and what they dream about at night and write about in their diaries. It’s what, as a child, you hope your mommy and daddy have for each other. And it’s what’s there when you see two old people kiss in the streets. It’s that deep, down-in-there feeling that can only be too good to be true. Only it isn’t. And I know that because I felt it. I am convinced I had that. And now I don’t. 

Luna

Luna the dog, named after a very important character from the greatest book series, possibly ever written, is a very nervous puppy. She does this "submissive pee" thing where anytime she's anxious, overly excited, overwhelmed, or, usually the case, a combination of the three, she piddles on the floor/your lap/the bed/ couch. "Who's a good puppy?" said in that really high-pitched baby Yoda voice, is just one odd example of how easily brought on said peeing is.

Six people, three of whom had a cocktail over dinner, in a small living room will also result in Luna's nervous peeing, although, as experienced, this particular night did not simply stop at "piddling", but rather "pissing EVERYWHERE", as I so eloquently put it at 2 in the morning while trying to explain where I had been for the last hour and a half.

Luna is not my dog, so why I sat with her on the bathroom floor as we were both wrapped in dirty bath towels as the fireworks of neighbors bringing in the New Year went off and the rest of the party was down stairs celebrating, can probably be explained by the entire bottle of Pink Moscato I shared with... no one and the kinship she and I developed during this traumatic night for poor, nervous Luna. (That was a very long sentence, and as I re-read it and considered chopping it down....well, I decided to keep it). I'm not exactly sure, though, why I felt it necessary to go on the Luna search in the first place.

Maybe it was because one of the 5 had already gone up to bed and the other 4 were lovingly paired off. (I typically don't have an issue with the third/fifth wheel thing, but on this particular night, which just so happened to be THE holiday (New Years- I said that because, it really isn't just a national holiday, it's the entire world), and I was feeling especially wallow-y and self-pity-y.) What sucks is that New Years day is my best friend's birthday, not that that sucks in itself, but it puts a lot of pressure to make the day/night even more special for her considering it's the beginning of a whole new year and all the pomp and circumstance that goes along with that. So once I was satisfied and reassured by the birthday girl that this year didn't completely suck (and was actually the best year yet, as she later told me), my best friend duties were complete and I could relax and enjoy my night knowing that she was happy. The problems were, as aforementioned, I was left out of the couples loop, and stupid Luna went missing again and was probably peeing on something.

3...2...1. Ball Drops. Happy New Year. Happy Birthday, Soulmate. Chug the Moscato (in a very classy way, by holding both the bottle and plastic champagne flute in either hand and drinking and pouring as the glass empties). "Shit, where's Luna". Knock the pet gate for the stairs over in a loud crash. Discover Luna shaking under the bed. Slam all the other bedroom doors so she doesn't make a run for it and hide under a different bed. Staring contest with Luna, willing her telepathically to come out from under there and to stop peeing on the floor.

I did one of those cartoon-y hands on the hip, pointed finger of shame, cocked eyebrow thing, whilst saying (possibly in my head), "There you are you little stinker, you" or something along those lines. Every time I tried to grab her to pull her out she peed a little more and crawled further into the depths that were the dark under-the-bed stuff. Finally, after what felt like a very long time, I was exasperated and drunk and I laid on my stomach and decided that this was the night that Luna and I would really get to know each other. After all, we had only met a few times and although we clicked immediately and shared several nights of spooning and a few peeing experiences, we hadn't really had that "moment" where you just know you'll be friends with someone for the rest of your lives. That is, until that night.

In my drunken state, which was getting worse by the minute as the cocktails from dinner, the pre-New Year Mimosa , and the Moscato after were all beginning to catch up to me, I said to Luna, "I know exactly how you feel, man" ('Man' and 'dude' are my drunk, really-deep-philosophical-conversation words, I've discovered). And from there we discussed everything from politics, new movie releases, to life and finally heart-break. "You and I know what it's like to completely put ourselves out there, dude, and just... ya know, man. ya know?"

We (I) shook our (my) head(s) and our (my) loss of dignity during this conversation. I hadn't even realized, probably due to the profundity and depth of the talk, that Luna had slowly scooted out from under the bed out into the open (which, at the time, I thought was a metaphor for her overcoming her fear and facing the real world). I (overly) excitedly grabbed Luna and held her like a new born baby seeing the world for the first time. "You are so brave, Luna, and I admire you so much!" Then she peed on me. Then fireworks outside went off and that's when she PISSED EVERYWHERE. (that bitch). I shuffled her into the bathroom and wrapped her up in a towel and draped another over my shoulders. There we sat, on that cold tile, for (maybe) a really long time. As I held and comforted poor, scared, and piss-smelling Luna, I realized something: I was not nearly drunk enough to deal with piss on the floor. So I, very begrudgingly, left Luna in that bathroom and hurried downstairs. I conversed a bit with the pairs. When the conversation turned to why I was alone on this day and why I needed a man to feel good about ...blah blah blah...I finished off another bottle of champagne and went back upstairs.

Despite the humor and stupidity of it all, I did realize some important things from this night. Like how much alike Luna and I are. Except that I don't pee everywhere I go. And I don't shake when I'm nervous. And I don't get nervous about everything. And I don't have an underbite.
I also learned that..fuck... I didn't really learn anything other than to share your wine with others.

Long story short, I butted-in on a webcam photo shoot of one of the couples who had made it up to bed, interrupted the other couple's make-out session after meandering back downstairs fucking yet again looking for more wine, took a long hot, sitting-down shower where I only conditioned my hair, tested out my best friend's electric razor on my arm hair, quoted 20 minutes of "Pretty Woman" (flawlessly), and subsequently was told to "leave the acting to the actors", discussed (also in a very profound and intelligent way) the universe, high school teachers, love, my numb face, and poor Luna, and finally (FINALLY) I fell asleep watching re-runs of 'The Office'.

So, how was your New Year's?