Urges

Ok. So this title may be a bit, well, bizarre, uncomfortable, questionable, irresistible (for some of you), but I happen to think its appropriate and hell, im gonna use it.

I have the urge to write a book. I love to read, and so why not do what the sketchy guy I met in New York did and act so engrossed by my work that I publish it and then use it to get girls (in my case boys)? Since this is probably confusing, let me explain. One night while reading in my favorite cafe just north of Gramercy Park, I suddenly felt the eyes of a man upon me. Resisting the urge to turn and look, as I was not in the mood for conversation, I finally gave in and glanced. The millisecond he had of my gaze he did not waste. ''So you're interested in art!'' he exclaimed, eying my The Book of Art, ten pound volume. ''Me too!''...and so commenced the conversation, of which the dialogue is not important, but which allowed for a most hilarious revelation. The man finally explained the book and then, as if by accident, when I said, ''oh wow! who's the artist?'' he said, ''ah well, its mine!'' So much for suave, or subtle. Anyway, it wasn't the worst example of bragadociousness I've ever witnessed, and probably more tolerable than someone perhaps unrestrainedly obsessed with themselves who use it not just to impress you, but dominate you. So, I think I'll do what he did and write a book, originally begun from a personal urge to understand this whirlwind of a life I've been living, and eventually use it as a piece of work that will mesmerize thousands.

To be totally honest, I really just want to write because I feel that conversation is too insufficient a medium for explaining to friends and family just all I feel I've been through this past semester. By nature, people engage in conversation because they truly are interested, but time and energy are too brief for them to get very deep. And there are too many distractions. So as I want to relate to you just how incredible a semester I've had, to better inspire your travels, or your interest in the wider world, in taking chances and giving safety a back seat to living, I need to write it down. At the very least I need to commit to this blog.

At this point, I feel overwhelmed with all I have seen and done and dont really want to begin. Its veritably the disadvantage of being here so long- the things that would stand out to a normal traveler become blurred and a bit commonplace. Its a struggle just to remember to make note of things. i have this foreboding feeling that I'm going to forget everything I've done, but especially everything I've learned about myself. Its such a haunting feeling. To know we will forget what we learned to never forget, yikes. There must be some way to keep perspective. Sometimes I feel I have wanted to forget. Like when I saw my parents for the first time, who happen to be the symbol of safety and reassurance to me, I instantly felt cured. Cured of all my inapts that I convince myself of. Safe from all the dangers of traveling alone. And for two weeks while they were here, I slept perfectly, lost my appetite, was totally at peace. But of course I wasn't introspective at all or confronted with anything that I had to personally deal with. There is a quote by Helen Keller which I think applies perfectly to this situation. It comes from a book my brother and I are reading called, Lies My Teacher Told Me that belongs to my uncle. ''People do not like to think. If one thinks, one must reach conclusions. Conclusions are not always pleasant,'' she is quoted. Anyway, I guess this is why I think I must be growing up. Because I know the safety provided by my parents is false.

But needless to say, the past five months have been a whirlwind of thought and excitement. I'm just beginning to figure out what's going on with me. At the moment I'm a bit drunk on the idea of staying in Europe forever because I'm young, I love the nightlife, and I'm afraid to go home, get a real job, and get stuck. Give me the arsenic now. I'd rather suffer circulation-wise forever than succumb to that. If you've ever met someone with Reynauds, you know what I mean, and therefore how dramatic that last statement is. Its just that I love it over here and love going out! I love the United States too (I've read A Walk Across America and I listen to Springsteen), but so many things about it just DO NOT COMPARE!

So gimme courage, gimme perspective, and help me to decide whether/not leaving my family for another few years is worth staying here. Cause I certainly don't know. I love them and miss them tremendously. But the goal now is: make money, pay debts, become a dancer. I know its my destiny, and it would be a crime against God and myself if I were to ignore it. So please hold me accountable! However it fits into the formula, it must be there or I'm afraid I'll go mad. I'll give into some other desire which is equally obsessive but also self-destructive.

So there's one self-disclosure: I've an extremely addictive personality. I once got addicted to hot baths. Then it was herbal tea. Then working out. And then Baileys. Then, fun! But at the moment I seem to have them all curbed. I want to avoid being a neurotic freak if its not obvious. Addictions are bad news and I'm only grateful to be this way so I can sympathize with others who have become victims unwillingly.

A real entry is coming soon. But for the mean time, I'll share a bit whats been going down here in Germany since the holidays were over: movies, starting West Wing, cooking vegetarian with my aunt, gazing out wistfully at the snow (as a forced hermit) but sad that my blood can't handle it except for on limited occasions, an exciting New Years Eve party with real Bavarians, job-hunting in Paris...

good movies:
Bridge Over Madison County
High Fidelity
The Color Purple
Somethings Gotta Give (never thought Id relate to that one...but sadly)
The Hours
Joni Mitchell Documentary
One Night on Earth
The Graduate
Patton
Annie Hall
Silkwood

Ciao no mas-