13 days

I'm not sure how this happened. How did the time go by so damn quickly. (Pardon my French) :-P

But here we are, less than two weeks to go and I don't know how I will ever manage it. My time here has always been... fleeting. But the idea that it is nearly over, that in less than two weeks I will no longer be a citizen of the world but just another unemployed, college-dropout living at her parents' house is a little unnerving.

I have never been one to like clichés. Even when spelled correctly. The fact of the matter is, clichés don't help you accept the new realities. In fact, clichés just drive you nuts. "Everything happens for a reason," "God has a plan for you," "This was meant to be." It's all la merde. The truth is, even when cliché phrases are true, how does knowing another "door will open for me" help me accept I'm being kicked out of the current room? I'm going through one of my "moods" as I have been for the past two weeks. I don't what anyone to think I'm going crazy, that happened a long time ago, but as the two months' notice I got has become two weeks I'm starting to loose it just a little bit more. There is so much to do. And I'm not just talking about physical things. Obviously I need to pack my entire life into a variety of boxes under 15kg and 2 suitcases of 23kg (I know, Mom, eat the elephant one bite at a time). But then there is the emotional separation. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready for it. This has been my life for the last 11 months and although sometimes it feels like I've been here forever, there is SO much I didn't get to.

"Life is full of chapters," "Life is full of opportunities," "Life is about change." I know that these things are true. I know that I have been guilty of saying them myself but the truth is, I hate these bloody sayings. Chapters are good when you're writing a book, or scrolling through a DVD menu. Opportunities are good when you know what you're looking for. Change is good when you find it in your pocket. Not so much when its' been THRUST upon you like a rocket off course. I know this might seem a little... crazy. But if you know me, you'll know I am just a little bit crazy. The fact of the matter is that I just cannot come to grips on what I'm facing.

I went to my last Au Pair meeting last night. It was our Christmas Party. And I was embarrassed beyond belief - but that's another story. As the party began, friends and I were talking, giggling, consoling and smiling. Something I have come to depend on here. The unconditional love of girls who were strangers up until a few months ago. One of my friends asked me how I was holding up, how I was feeling. I told her the truth: I don't know. "I've been in emotional deadlock" I told her. Becky, our coordinator chimed in: "She's been that way for the past two months." And she is right. And for good reason.

As many of you, if you've read this blog over the last year will have noticed, I'm sort of an emotional bird. Things get to me, I wear my emotions out there, I share... a lot. I smile and laugh, I cry and yell. I love my life and hate it. I think that makes me pretty typical (except for maybe all the sharing...). But it's who I am, and I'm not upset about it. I appreciate that I have been given the gift of communication, even if its only with myself and the keyboard. I am honored that writing gives me such joy, that emotions inspire creativity and that pain can be easily translated into (mostly) readable entries.

Pain... it's funny that my internal monologue chose that word to finish the last sentence. Pain is so vital to human existence. At least that's my view. Perhaps it's because pain, in some way or another has always been part of my existence. I didn't want this blog to become a pity-party. Quite the contrary. The truth is though that pain has shaped who I have become. And this last year has been painful, just as the last 21 years has been painful. But, I of all people, understand how pain helps one grow. If it wasn't for my pain I doubt I'd be here, now, writing in my kitchen in Switzerland about the pain its causing me to leave.

Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes there are too many. Sometimes I ramble (ok... so most of the time I ramble), but much as my writing, I am trying to figure out my purpose. My direction. My vision. My passion. My year here has been that way as well. Finding purpose, direction, visions and passions. Many of which I was always aware of... passion for children, passion for travel, visions of writing, visions of life somewhere else. But a lot is new. And therefore adds to this emotional deadlock (as I am so fond of calling it). I have a hard time choosing one emotion, much like I have a hard time sticking to one topic. But unlike a political deadlock, or a jury deadlock, I'm not even sure all my emotions are on the table. Sometimes I feel like there will be a "surprise witness" called to the stand at the zero-hour. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be so sad about leaving, since I've had my time here and now its time to go home. Parts of me believe its all a big joke and tomorrow I'll get a call saying "oops we messed up - you can stay." There are pieces of me that long to understand all the emotions in my heart and pieces of me that are scared to even begin to recognize them. Which leads me back to clichés.... why must they be so accurate? "Everything happens for a reason," might just be my least favorite, but I'm starting to see its truth. Except I don't know the reasons, nor do I think anyone on this planet does. Only that there is one. It's sort of a cruel joke if you ask me. We're told to believe that everything has purpose, that life isn't just crap from one end to the other. We're told that loving and losing is important, whether its a relationship, a family member, or a pet. We're told that plans don't always go as thought for a reason. It's like the number 13. The number 13 has and will always be my favorite number. I was born on Friday the 13th of January (I know... it explains a lot, right?). It has always been my lucky number. And at the same time, I examine it now that I have 13 days left in my current position (which is a little weird. It's like looking at a death sentence of a dream). Thirteen as always been my number, and yet there is no reason for that to be the case. I was 13 when my life turned upside-down, so why do I still celebrate 13 for being a good thing? I suppose its because when my life turned upside-down, I learned to live upside-down. So now I'm facing another 13 which is not so dramatic but it's just the day I'm looking at. It's sort of just interesting that this is the day I had a moment to write down everything (and nothing at the same time).

So without clichés, without driving myself insane, without being a wreck, I'm trying to accept that this change is for the greater good. That my life is going to be different when I go back. Obviously. And how it will be different is beyond me, but it will be, and I suppose that'll be alright....

Change has never been my strong suit. Change has always been something I avoided at all costs, although even with my relentless trying it always seemed to follow me and interfere with my life. Change brought about happiness and sadness. Change brought about opportunity and crisis. Change brought new people into my life and took away others. Change made me happy and completely distraught. Change is my best friend and my archenemy. So it goes without saying that this current change headed my way will be met with both anticipation and anxiety. I am so excited to see some people I have been missing. I am so excited to move onto my next adventure. I am so excited to be with my family again. I am so sad to leave this place. I am so sad to leave my friends here. I am so sad to see this adventure end.

As much as I hate not being able to feel just one feeling, I suppose I'm grateful to be able to feel so many at the same time. I can't imagine only being sad right now, or only happy. Only nervous, or only excited. Only scared or only overwhelmed. Instead I'm all of the above. I'm ready and so behind. I'm joyful and depressed. Maybe this is the definition of bipolar behavior. It wouldn't be the first time someone had suspected me to be of the bipolar inclination. And I wouldn't take it as a bad thing. Just something I would need to change. However, years of therapy and psychiatrists have told me I'm not bipolar, I just have some problems. But, honestly, who doesn't.

I think a lot of my nervousness comes from the unknown. Much like change, I hate the unknown. I hate being left to wait until the curtain call to know what show it is. I am strongly against not getting the script until the cameras start rolling. I'm a planner, a strategizer, an organizer. Therefore to be told I can't plan and can't know anything I'm a little on-edge. I had a flashback to my flight over here nearly a year ago. I remember sitting on the plane and just having tears streaming down my face. I remember not having any idea what was going on, where I was going, who I was going to meet and who I was going to be. Now, 11 months later, I'm in the opposite situation. I know where I'm going, who I'll see (although not everyone I'll meet, and of course many of them have changed), and as for who I will be, well I don't think I'll ever know that.

So in my last 13 days, my mission to myself is to accept a cliché. Accept one of those awful phrases I've always been told and always hated to hear. I need to adjust my thinking that not knowing the future is a bad thing. I need to be better at accepting the surprise.

As usual, I apologize to my reader's for this... random of random blogs, but I appreciate your reading.

On a side-note seeing how in 13 days I will no longer be "Swiss Miss Matticus" I'll be taking suggestions for a title for my new blog, which will be about... well my misadventures of being an (a)typical American.

And... MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! Some holiday love included.

Thanksgiving

This blog will be dedicated to the wonderful weekend I spent with Karen & Andy Roggli in Bern celebrating a late Thanksgiving. It was so magical and fun to spend a truly American holiday with another American and her husband. Karen and I connected through a family friend (who is her mother's cousin) and she and Andy invited me to spend a late Thanksgiving with them at their apartment in Bern, along with some friends of theirs and their adorable puppy, Bella.

This month has gone by so fast. It is so hard to believe that I am down the final month here in Switzerland, actually its less than a month now. That's why my weekend away was so great, and needed. I left my house on Friday evening and took the train to Bern, arriving about 9:30. I met Karen & Andy at the tram stop with Bella and we walked back in the light snow that had arrived the previous night. The first snow for much of Switzerland (including the Geneva area and the Bern area).

We stayed up talking for a bit, and then all went to bed, ready to eat ourselves into a food-coma the next day. I slept incredibly well, but it was most likely a combination of not having children outside my door and a soft bed. The next morning, Karen made cinnamon rolls and we had hot cocoa. YUM! Afterwards it was a mostly relaxing day, Andy went to pick up the turkey they had ordered from the supermarket, and Karen and I did a little prep work. Although, it was mostly Karen. I felt weird for not helping more. But there wasn't much I could do, since she had done most of it herself. She even made the cutest place settings with each guest's name attached to a pear! (see photo)

At about 3:30 her friend Julie arrived with her boyfriend Cédric and we ate Artichoke-Spinach dip and talked and laughed while the turkey cooked away. We played a really fun game called DOG, which I had never seen before but is very much like Sorry, if only a little more complicated/intense. I am now on a mission to find it before I go!

Then came the dinner. All I can say is YUM. We had turkey and stuffing, candied yams, green bean casserole and rolls and cranberry sauce... It really was amazing. (Again, see pictures). After dinner we were all SO full we decided to take a walk in all the fresh snow which had dumped itself on the city during the day. I had forgotten how much I love the sound of shoes crushing and crunching in the snow. We wandered around along the river front, and talked and laughed and took some photos and just generally had a good time. Bella really enjoyed the snow. We got back to Karen & Andy's apartment around 10 and were still too full for dessert so we played a game, had some tea and then finally got around to the wonderful pumpkin pie that Julie had made (from scratch!) It was devine. We were playing a game called Settlers until about 1 in the morning when Julie & Cédric decided they should head home and the three of us, plus Bella decided it was well past our bedtimes.

On Sunday, Karen, Andy, Bella and I went on a walk around Bern in the daylight, taking me to the Christmas market which opened over the weekend, along with some of the traditional "tourist" spots/attractions. I finally saw the Swiss "parlament" building (where the first approved my visa to come here!) and yet another large European church. We wandered around, saw the Bern bears again, this time the babies were out! And then headed back to the apartment for some leftovers and tea before I joined them at their church for a lovely time and then headed to the train station.

That however was when the magic of the weekend ended.

The Swiss train system is known for being on-time. Accurate. And reliable. Sunday night was NONE of the above. My train from Bern to Lausanne started off alright, until we got to Lausanne 10 minutes late and I had missed my connection. Thankfully a second possible train was leaving in 30 minutes so I only had to wait in the freezing cold/snow (thankfully covered, but still snowing) until then. And then THAT train didn't leave Lausanne until it was 8 minutes late. As we arrived in Nyon, I ran to catch my bus which pulled away RIGHT when I got there. And I only have one an hour. Instead of waiting for an hour however, I decided to take the train to Coppet (another 8 min train ride) to catch the bus from the other direction, which was leaving in 20 min. Or so I thought. The train to Coppet was 5 minutes late. Under normal circumstances I have 7 minutes to catch my bus from the time the train arrives until the bus departs. I was scared of missing it, scared I would be late and stuck in Coppet for another hour, this time in a much less traveled station, with fewer lights and NO place to stay warm. Thankfully I caught my bus, by 1 minute. Which then was late getting to my stop but that was besides the point. I was just so frustrated by then, tired, cold and ready for bed.

I made it home, and happy to be there. And slept incredibly well.

I'm down to 23 days... And all I can say is that I hope my bed feels like home when I finally arrive the 23rd of December. Another blog will come soon, with more "emotions" I'm sure.

Ciao for now. Love,

Mattie

**PHOTOS NOT WORKING AT THIS TIME :( - PLEASE CHECK BACK LATER!!! I'll either link to a FB album or add them again!**

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda, Wanna

In life there are shoulds, woulds, coulds and wants. Sometimes the shoulds and coulds go together, sometimes the woulds and wants. Sometimes none of them fit together. Sometimes they always do. The point is that they are there. Always, consistant, and unavoidable.

Take right now for example, as I write this blog that, let's face it, is just one of my usual rants, and even I don't know where, if anywhere, it is going. But as I type these words, listening to a "Genius" mix on iTunes created on the song Touched, by VAST, which is inspring the likes of NIN, A Perfect Circle and Garbage to play out of my little computer speakers I should be doing my French homework. In fact not only should I be doing it, but I also could be doing so, since I have already finished my domestic duties of the day. But I don't WANT to. Simple as that. I set a countdown timer on my computer this morning. One month, 1 day until I leave Switzerland. One month, 1 day and a 12 hour plane journey until I am back on US soil, back "home." And I want to be home. But I don't want to leave. How can I have both? Is it possible? Should I simply be grateful for the time I've already had here in Switzerland and move on. Could it be that simple? Would it change me more to stay here, would I become someone else again? For that matter, will I become someone else again once I go home? And do I want to become someone else.

I have spent a lot of time reflecting recently on my time here, as I suppose anyone in my position would or should be doing. I replay the events of the past year in my head. People I've met, people I've lost, people I've missed, people I will never see again, and people I haven't met yet. In the past year 4 babies have been born into the circle of my life (likely more, but at the moment, there are 4 in my mind, not that they are any more special than the others!). And each one of them has a special place in my heart, mostly because their parents do, but for me, it's hard to acknowledge their existence, without meeting them. Without being in their time zone, on the same continent. Dear little Emilia, little Zachary, little Sophie and of course, my darling nephew little Jack. It just doesn't seem fair that they have all started their lives, growing up without me. Not that I should be jealous, or in anyway am I more special than anyone else in their lives. But being SO far away has made me feel even more detached from them. From their loving parents, my friends. Each one of these babies is special in his/her own way. I know this, but yet I have never met them. Emilia's mother announced her pregnancy just a few weeks before my departure. I've known little Zachary's mother since I was a kid myself, and was present at his parents' wedding. Little Sophie's parents came into my family's life a few years ago, and her mother has become somewhat like a sister to my mother and I (somehow it works that she is a sister to us both) and her father is an amazing chef who helped send me off to Switzerland with some of the greatest food ever. I've known of Sophie's impending arrival since my departure as well. And then there is Jack. Jack joined the world last week, although he was kept a secret for a while. My darling nephew has some of the greatest parents in the world (and no, I'm not biased). They love each other, they love him, and will always stand by him. I know this because they have always stood by me, and I'm just the sister/-in law.

But it isn't just births I've missed. I missed saying goodbye. My surrogate grandpa, my neighbor, Ken went home to Heaven while I was away. I didn't get to say goodbye, although I know he knew, and knows I was always thinking of him. Part of me felt like I should have been there. And that only if I could it wouldn't have been the same way. If only I would have stayed home, didn't come to Europe. But then I remember how proud he was of me when I left. How proud of me he was for trying my life, going somewhere, doing something. Despite his passing, I know he is still thinking of me, and cheering me on. Even when I'm overwhelmed and unsure. He lived in Germany with his wife for several years, and I know he thought highly of the experience. I am looking forward to giving his loving wife, Penny, my surrogate grandma, a long overdue hug.

I am so blessed. I realize as writing this, how many families I have. I have my genetic family, my 3 insane brothers (and a not so insane sister-in-law) and loving parents, and a grandpa who is so cool he has facebook and a Mac, his wife, who always has a house smelling of freshly baked goods and cousins, aunts and uncles near and far who think of me, pray for me and I return the favor. Then I have a "Beach Family". I call them that because we all live near the beach. There are all the friends, who really are more like aunts/uncles. Dear friends, siblings, shoulders to cry on, mouths to feed, smiles to be shared. Then there is my "Extended Family". These are the people who have been in my life since... before I existed or shortly after. Family friends, church friends, "aunts" and "uncles" who have always sent me a smile or a birthday card or just a big hug when they're in town. Now I have a "Swiss Family." And I'm not just talking about my employers, but all the amazing people I've met here, I've played with, cried with, drank with, traveled with, screamed with and hugged. An amazing group of (mostly) girls, from all over this incredible planet, with hearts bigger than all the oceans combined. And smiles wider than all the mountain ranges combined. And a common thread that runs through all of us. Many I fear I will never see again. Many I long to see again. Many have left already and many more I will be leaving. It will be me to say goodbye first. It will be my tears to flow down, saying goodbye. I have found not only so many great people here, but I have found a part of myself that I didn't know existed. A part of myself that smiles at the littlest things, laughs louder than necessary, isn't shy at a bar or nightclub, isn't afraid to look ridiculous if it will help someone out, and someone who can be there for those who are there for me. I hope I can keep that part up, although I know it isn't a one-person job. It takes someone to humiliate you to be humble. It takes someone to let you know your crazy to fully embrace it. It takes a smile to initiate a second one. I know I am not going back to nothing. Quite the contrary, I'm going back to a lot. But it's a lot I've been away from for a rather long time. It's a new same thing. It's a different familiarity. It won't be the same, but neither am I.

I can't seem to decide if I am sad or happy with these shoulds, woulds, coulds and wants. I'm not sure if I'm excited or depressed. Ready or scared. Prepared or overwhelmed. I think it's all of the above. New adventures can only happen when the previous one ends. I just don't know what the next adventure is. And I suppose that's OK, as long as I don't go back thinking I should, could, would or wanted to do anything differently.

As usual, this blog went in many directions, but mostly it's there. The shoulds, woulds, coulds and wants sometimes go together, sometimes not. But they're always there.

The Beginning of the End

Well, it's time... for the timer.

I leave in ^ that much time. I have started packing and saying some tearful goodbyes. While I am EXTREMELY excited to go home and see all my family, this day is coming sooner than I was prepared for, planned for or wanted. Biggest fears right now revolve around my boys here, I so dearly don't want them to think I am leaving because I want to or that I won't miss them more than anything. Because I DON'T want to and I WILL miss them more than anything. This life is full of chapters, decisions, choices, changes and callings. I am eagerly awaiting my next.

But it isn't all bad. This weekend some friends have decided to "kidnap" me and take me to a spa here in Switzerland. I'm excited. Then we're going out to a bar & nightclub with some other friends. Should be nice. And next weekend, to honor & celebrate Thanksgiving, I'm going to Bern where I will have Thanksgiving dinner with a relative of a family friend who was an au pair here, then met her husband, and now lives in Bern with him. That will be fun I hope, a chance to really see another Swiss city, plus meet a fellow American living abroad and do something 100% American with her.

However, there is also frustration. My host family is having an extension built to their house, and this week the wall was broken between the main house and the new extension. This has not only created some of the most unbearable noise but also more dust than I thought could exist in one place. Case and point: the cleaner JUST left, and I JUST re-mopped the floor by the plastic barrier because the dust has come thru within the last 30 minutes from the time he did that floor. And it is certainly not helping my immune system, which already feels compromised. And the noise, as I said previously, is rather unbearable. I can't think straight, or crooked. I can't do anything that requires talking or listening. And my head has decided to go on strike by increasing the intensity of my headaches in retaliation. I don't know how much more, how much longer I can physically stand this, let alone mentally or emotionally. And to top it off, it's a charming 4º Celsius here (that'd be 39.2º F) and thus way too cold to stay outside where things happen to be just a little bit quieter. I'm not at all thrilled about this, and I really hope the extension is finished before I leave Switzerland, otherwise this torture will be for nothing!

One of the things that worries me about this sort of situation is my host mother's response. I don't want her, or my host dad to think that the cleaner didn't come or I didn't clean. There is simply too much dust. And the fact is that I will yet again dust-mop the floor before I leave at 3:45 to get Benjamin and the workers' will continue until 4:15 making the work I do completely useless. And the fear they will return to a dust-filled house is a little nerve-raking. They do like things prim & proper. And not in a stuck up way, but when you have a nice house, with all wood flooring and 2 small children in the house, keeping it that way becomes the priority of your nanny. (ME)

It isn't all bad at the house though too, my host mom was away for 2 weeks on a business trip to Japan and Vietnam so the boys were beginning to go nuts (starting on about the 3rd day). She came home Wednesday to Daniel's and my greatest relief. For some reason, she doesn't have to be home, but in the country and they immediately are better children. The minute she's gone for more than 1 night it's like the rule book is thrown away and they roam the house like circus monkeys. Again, those damned circus monkeys. And to add insult to injury, last week while host-mom was in Japan, host-dad had to work longer hours entertaining some consultants in town, so this left Mattie with les singes du cirque for many more hours than normal. I am just going to say this once: it should never take 45 minutes to eat 4 chicken nuggets, a 1/4 cup of rice and 5 baby carrots. NEVER. Ever. End of story.

At this time, I'd like to go back to something I said earlier in this rant of rants, and ramblings of ramblings. About the boys, the other part, the part I will miss: THEM. I have tried to tell Ben what is going to happen at Christmas. I decided that explaining my departure should mostly be a parent job (like explaining where babies come from and why they can't eat candy for dinner - although, I can explain where babies come from, just not in French, and well I know why they can't eat candy for dinner because if they did they wouldn't be monkeys, they'd be insane gorillas on a rampage). Anyway, so to avoid too many questions I've been trying to keep it simple, and also only talking with Ben about it, since at 5 he is a little more accepting than his 3-year old counterpart. (Although, I use the word little with its' intended emphasis). I reminded Ben of my brother Scot (who visited me in September, and since Scot spoke about 20 words of French, and played the drums, plus could beat-box the boys decided he was the greatest thing since sliced bread). I told Ben that at Christmastime I was going to go home and see Scot. Along with the rest of my family. And that I would miss him. I tried to end it there. Then a few days ago, we were in the car and he was talking about Christmas and I was talking to him about Christmas and the subject came up about my going. And I said "Ben, you remember that I am going home at Christmas to see Scot, right?" and he replied jollily "Yes, and then you'll come back." I couldn't say anything. My heart stopped. I just smiled and nodded and turned up the radio. I've tried to drop other hints, things like "So Ben, perhaps some day you and your mommy, daddy & Melchior can come and visit me and my family in Seattle." To which he nods and says yes, only if he doesn't have to go alone. And sometimes I say things like "Ben, someday perhaps you'll meet my children if I have some." And he smiles and says "Yes, that'd be fun." Most of the time our conversations revolve around three characters: Santa, Jesus and Michael Jackson, so when the conversation takes a turn for something else, it is often both to my relief and dismay. So when our conversations naturally turn to Scot, or my home, or Michael Jackson's country, or my parents, or what Santa will bring me, I try my best to keep it light and not get too dismal, since I know I'll just end up crying if I try to explain I'm leaving and not coming back.

Melchior is another story. He's so young that I don't know if he'll really, truly remember me. But he is certainly attached. He loves me. As does Ben, but Melchior, with his broken and spotty English tends to melt my heart a little more sometimes. They both know how cute they are, and therefore use that to their advantage, but Melchior is the type to come up to me and just yell "bisous" (pronounced "be-zu" meaning "kiss") and then attach himself like a leach to my leg and kiss my thigh. It sounds more disturbing in writing then it actually is, but it's one of those things I know I'll miss. Although I know my light-colored trousers' won't miss it when his face is covered in spaghetti sauce. I think he will remember me, whether its through pictures or songs or toys. But I don't know if he will have a broken heart as I am all too worried Ben will have.

I've been thinking about things I might do for them when I go home. I was thinking sending letters and postcards, to let them know they are always on my mind. And it will help me keep my French up. I also have this idea to make my brother Kyle record me singing some lullabies that the boys are always asking I sing when I tuck them into bed. I want to leave a good impression on them, as they have left on me.

I have ^ that much more time to ensure I do.

Whatever Happens...

I feel badly that I haven't written in a while. I have been time traveling. But unfortunately only into the future. Time is going by quicker than I can anticipate, except or acknowledge. Already I am looking at only a little more than a month until my return to the USA. My airline ticket is booked. I'll be arriving in Seattle about 4:10PM on December 23rd. It's weird to consider that life here is ending, but life is going to go on.

My mother has given me many "pearls of wisdom" in my short life, but my favorite comes from her experiences of fund raising and event planning. "Whatever happens, it was planned." I always had trouble accepting that, until I began to do my own tasks that quickly became more than what was within my control. Now I am facing a new truth, a new decision, a new life. What will I do with myself when I get home? That is the ultimate question, the ultimate choice still left to me. Part of me is scared out of my mind, but the other part is truly excited. There is a new adventure ahead of me. Trying to decide what I will do is a constant thought in the back of my mind, but actually, I am just as concerned about who I will be. I know I will not be the Mattie who left Seattle, her family, friends, job and life. And when I go back I will not be the Mattie who I have been the last year here in Switzerland. I have found a new side of myself, but it is one that cannot stay visible back home. At least not the same way. I go out here, have a base of friends, I go places, see things, take a good amount of time for myself but also serve and support others. I know myself and to keep this pattern will be difficult, if not impossible to maintain when I'm back home. I will find friends I'm sure, I will find a place to fit in, but as all things in life it will not be as expected. That's why I am doing my best to maintain the understanding, knowledge, hope and wish that "whatever happens, it was planned."

I have some exciting things to go home to, as I said, I'll be arriving just in time for Christmas, I'll get to celebrate my first New Year's legally drinking in the States (although not sure I'll go out). I'll be 22 shortly after that. I'll be an aunt (any second now if that damned baby would get his/her act together!) Hopefully I'll get the chance to see him/her soon. And I'll be looking for a job, looking for a car, looking for a life. There is so much to take into account, so many things to do, plan, prepare for, and yet nothing can be certain. I am looking forward to trying it out though.

I think I will find something new. I know I will find happiness. Things will happen, and I guess I will pretend that whatever it is, it was planned.

And I will be accepting help. So if any of my lovely fans, friends and family has some ideas, if you know of a cheap, automatic car for sale, or anyone needing a very experienced babysitter (gotta make some money when I first get back), or a real job (yeah, I know, I said it) or anything that might come in handy I'll be accepting your help, support and ideas.

See all you Washingtonians soon (38 days!!!), and other USA friends in not too much time, and European friends, this will NOT be goodbye. I promise.

Love you all. xoxox