Straight from the heart
Haven't written in a while, I know. I usually try to keep emo stuff out of LJ, since I hate reading it on other people's blogs, but since this is as close to an honest account of my time abroad (which is rapidly eclipsing on me), I do have to say it hasn't been the best of weeks. It wasn't homesickness; rather, it was just a frustrating inability to deal with things going on at home because I'm so far away. I've never really been much of "heart on your sleeve" kind of person--more inclined to keep things in rather than let it out--but I've learned here that the only way to move onto better things is to just confront it: the feelings of disatisfaction, unhappiness, boredom, whatever it is. And above all, especially since here I'm without my usual support group of friends and family (physically present I mean), I've learned to let some people in.
But that's my one and only Oprah moment this semester, I promise. No (more) worries: nothing that running several miles around in the park can't fix. My friend and I have taken to running and doing everything physical to prevent our minds from thinking too much. The endorphins give us a happy, 'feeling accomplished' kind of high that we've gotten quite addicted to, though when we should stop for our bodies' sake we have no idea. Just kidding. I got my mile down to somewhere near eight minutes! Don't laugh--I'm happy to be a crap ten minute miler most of the time. I didn't know I had it in me. Usually my motivation for pushing myself is nonexistent. We've also found a guy in the hostel who knows how to box so we're getting informal lessons from him on how to not punch like a girl. In case that ever comes handy at some point. It was like a scene out of Million Dollar Baby, learning how to jab left and jab right. Except I felt like a complete idiot because I learned that the normal boxing position is holding your left fist somewhat in front of your nose, your right nearby to your right ear, and your chin pressed as closely as possible to your left shoulder--all while perched delicately on the balls of your feet. Try it and you'll see what I mean. But getting several good, hard punches at the bag felt great.
But I must get on with my homework for the night: reading Harry Potter. I'm serious!
But that's my one and only Oprah moment this semester, I promise. No (more) worries: nothing that running several miles around in the park can't fix. My friend and I have taken to running and doing everything physical to prevent our minds from thinking too much. The endorphins give us a happy, 'feeling accomplished' kind of high that we've gotten quite addicted to, though when we should stop for our bodies' sake we have no idea. Just kidding. I got my mile down to somewhere near eight minutes! Don't laugh--I'm happy to be a crap ten minute miler most of the time. I didn't know I had it in me. Usually my motivation for pushing myself is nonexistent. We've also found a guy in the hostel who knows how to box so we're getting informal lessons from him on how to not punch like a girl. In case that ever comes handy at some point. It was like a scene out of Million Dollar Baby, learning how to jab left and jab right. Except I felt like a complete idiot because I learned that the normal boxing position is holding your left fist somewhat in front of your nose, your right nearby to your right ear, and your chin pressed as closely as possible to your left shoulder--all while perched delicately on the balls of your feet. Try it and you'll see what I mean. But getting several good, hard punches at the bag felt great.
But I must get on with my homework for the night: reading Harry Potter. I'm serious!