Loved you more than I did when you were mine...

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Loved you more than I did when you were mine.
I cannot believe how many blog updates I had in September. I suppose when you just arrive inspiration hits you over the head with a baguette almost every day and you just have to express it someway or you will explode. You’re also not travelling as much and have more time to sit and ponder and absorb what’s happening to you. I have abandoned many a blog before – because frankly I ran out of things to say. But I am determined to maintain this one because 1) I think writing is healthy for me 2) It makes communications with friends much much easier 3)I couldn’t imagine a better souvenir for myself. So what I’m trying to say in way too many words ( I never really realized how long it took me to get to the point until I got here and could only tell Paquita my stories in Spanish, which is why I often find myself stumbling – because I cannot think of the roundabout vague words that I want fast enough) is I’m still here! I have just been in Barcelona for a bit with my absolutely wonderful Aunt and uncle and I had no contact with the outside world, which was actually equally wonderful.
Again I have a few possible notable events. I am going to write about my Barcelona weekend but when I can devote more attention to it and think of some relevant universal thing to tie to it. Because when I am old and think back on Spain, I know I will think of Barcelona – if I am not physically in Barcelona at the time.
I could write about how I fell on my face in my school building ( much like I do in James A Cann on a rainy day).
I could write about what I do/don’t want to do with my life ( isn’t having a blog satisfyingly narcissistic?)
I could write about how I have no idea what to say to the very attractive guy who sits next to me in music class every day.
I could write about how I miss my sister and/or my housemates ( I will always live with other people –it’s a basic need)
I could write about the JBs/John, or my ultimate vice or the incredibly geeky purchase I just made that will undoubtedly manifest itself in the pictures from Paris.
However, I think I have an event that is even more eventful than the events that I previously thought were eventful (Please don’t even lightly chuckle at that. Inexcusably terrible). It’s taken about 8 weeks for my muscles to un-clench, for my endocrine system to slow down from hyper speed, for me to stop taking myself so seriously, for my brain to stop jumping to the worst case scenario( if you feel sick, the last thing you should do is WebMD your symptoms). If you’ve read any of my blog you have seen at least a little of the process- a process in which a 20 year old bundle of nerves was slowly unraveled and loosed of all the things she had used to identify and validate herself.
The process is still in motion, and most likely ( dios willing), go on for a very long time. But, I stop myself at least once a week to look around and say

Damn, I am happy.
Not to say that this is necessarily anything new. I have been happy before ( or at least should have been) most times without really being aware of it or thinking that this was just a plateau until I was REALLY happy. I have finally accepted that happy is a state of being, not a state of euphoria. I used to think that everyone else was happy. I was chasing those moments of ecstasy – the moments that punctuate our daily life and that lots of people try to live in constantly. And when I focused on that elusively wonderful feeling and didn’t understand that they are wonderful because they are elusive, that’s where I developed this idea that I was unhappy.
The only way I can think to say it is happiness is where you live. There aren’t fireworks or parties or important jobs with big paychecks or really anything else besides you and the people you love the most. Happiness is boring in the best way possible. For me happiness is consistency. I am happy apart from the fact that I bit it h-core in front of all my classmates and that I am unable to think of anything witty and charming in Spanish to say to this mystery man. Sure I get flustered and insecure all the time but I can access that little disco ball of contentment and it eventually subsides.

Each time you smile,
It’ll only last a while
Life may be scary
But it’s only temporary.

Except for death and paying taxes,
Everything in life is only for now.

Paris and Barcelona updates to come. Mallorca this weekend 


Also loving this song