5 Years Time.

Sometimes my very funny mother (who still doesn't know how to work the DVD player) will text me from her very fancy iPhone (which I'm convinced she only bought to play Words With Friends).

Here's an example:
Mum: Sup?
Me: Chillin, you?
Mum: Chillazin'
Me: I don't even know what that means.
Mum: It's a cross between chilling and relaxing - I learned it in the hood.
Me: I see. However, you wrote "chillazin."
Mum: Haha...we misspelled a lot in the hood, also.

THIS IS WHAT I WILL BE LEAVING BEHIND FOR FOUR MONTHS, PEOPLE!
Did I mention I won't have a cell phone while I scurry about Europe?
Completely disconnected.
And while that might be mega-hip and alternative, I like getting the occasional "sup" text from my mama.

2 weeks and 2 days...and I couldn't be more nervous/scared/excited/sad/ecstatic.
I think I might throw up from the overboard of emotions.
My heart can't handle feeling anything more than passive bliss.

And I'll be honest...I'm a little sad about leaving behind this face.


And this face too...


Ugh...I'm such a sap.
I promise I won't be getting one of those "I Heart My Tortoise" tees.
(I'll try not to, at least.)

I'll be honest though, I am all kinds of freaked out.
The program director keeps us up-to-date with semi-weekly emails and every time I get one, my heart flutters a little...mostly in excitement, but a little fear, as well.

Also, my roommate started a facebook group, so all of us could get to know each other.
Basically, it's 5 (I think) different schools, coming together to study. It's more of a program than an actual campus, and I'll be living about an hour east of Rome.
There's only 25 (again, I think) students all together. Yeah. 25.
Oh yeah and it's all girls.

ANYWAY. It's been fun getting to kinda, sorta know them and see what led them to making the decision to study in Italy.
For the most part, they're all art students...and by art students, I mean super crazy creative, artsy, geniuses, and all other adjectives that equate to brilliance.
Like...way cooler than me.

Don't get me wrong, I'll be the first to say I'm cool.
Ego practically oozes out of my pores.
But I can get away with it, because I'm decently funny and awkwardly built, so I can't help but be awesome.

But these people are on a whole new level. I'm at the kids' table, while they are discussing Bukowski over a glass of Pinot Noir. (Which I know a lot about after having watched Sideways with my sister.)
They've probably already traipsed across Europe, while I live in a less than glamorous city where the streets are named after deceased country stars...I wish I was making this up.

And let's talk about the professors.
Most of my professors from APU either didn't really know who I was (even in a class of 8, and yes, I was in a class with only 8 people).
Some were semi-tickled by my brilliance, but for the most part, I tried to stay under the radar.

I know very little about my future professors in Italy, but judging from their emails, I'm gonna guess they don't spend their Tuesday afternoons watching Real Housewives of New York City drinking Dr. Pepper and eating Twizzlers. (Actually, today I watched Bizarre ER, which was less bizarre than one would expect. So someone bit your ear off, get over it. While eating lime chips and drinking diet, mixed berry flavored green tea.)

Honestly, I can't even tell what he's saying in half the emails.
For example, in one message, which I'm gonna assume was explaining the books I would need to purchase for my class on Dante (I've never been more intimidated by 3 books in my life...), he began explaining the mystery and passion of the written word on the hearts and eyes of those who explore and feel the pages...or something like that.

I don't even know.
The whole time I was thinking, "I know he's trying to say something to me. I just know it!"

These emails are like pieces of abstract art.
Up close, they are just a bunch of pretty words, but once you back up, you begin to see sentences and then you see that you're supposed to buy Inferno and Paradise...and one more that I can't remember.

And they use words like ubiquitous!
Which I still can't remember the meaning of.
And I know it's gonna come up...someone's gonna say something like, "The ubiquity of Oprah (it would appear that I really have a problem with her...) and all the other evils in the world..."

And I would just have to sit there, "Oh...yeah. So freakin' ubiquitous."

Anyway, I know I'm over-thinking it.
I just get so nervous, that I feel like I might throw up.
(And they just started hammering knees on Bizarre ER, so perhaps I really will throw up.)

But what if they don't like me? (Well that's just crazy talk, because who wouldn't like THIS.)
What if they bring up the Invasion of Normandy?
What if they laugh at my crappy Italian? (I WISH I had enough Italian to even be considered crappy.)
What if I hate it?
What If I forget something?
What If I run out of money?
What if my tortoise moves on to a better family?
What if my family moves on to a better family?
What if someone bites my ear off?
What if Oprah reads this and banishes me from Earth? (You know she could do that.)

What am I saying? I'm 20! I'm supposed to be going on wild adventures and living off the spare change I find at the bottom of the dryer. Even Paul says so.



I couldn't be more blessed to have the opportunity to go on this adventure! However, I reserve the right to be all kinds of freaked out.