heated about things like coffee, figuring my life out, and eventually shakespeare. oh life.

Sometimes you have to throw away a perfect thing, because the timing just isn’t right. Like Jamie Thomas, who I met at the end of senior year. in my opinion, he probably would have made an excellent first boyfriend, and that’s hard to do with me. I’m insanely picky. But whether or not Jamie would have done, I wouldn’t know, because a month after we met, flirted (he said something like, “I feel like I’ve known you for my whole life”), we graduated and I never saw him again. Strange how those things happen. Something that could be really, really good, just disappearing like they were insignificant.

I’m a big believer in the expression, “there are no coincidences”. That’s probably why I like Gibbs from NCIS so much. There are no coincidences. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe not a reason that can be understood at the moment; maybe not for years. But still. Nothing happens without a purpose, and it’s my constant dissection of life’s events that keep me occupied, hopeful, and impressed that everything is under control and things are happening as planned. And someday, no matter if I’m going through heaven or hell, I will understand and appreciate the circumstances I was put in. I think that’s what life is about really-garnering memories to share with other people.

You learn your lessons, and then pass them on to inspire other people.

Just about the worst thing happened to me last week. I had a major attack in my digestive track, collapsed, and had to be administered injections to take the pain in my stomach away. It seems that I may have something like minor ulcers. Most likely (and this is my unprofessional opinion, based solely on my experiences) from these past 10 months in Africa. The worst part of it is, I have to stay away from caffeine. That’s fine with me, as far as sodas and chocolates go, but when it comes to coffee, this pretty much broke my heart.

If you know me, then you know that I am a coffee JUNKIE. Not one of those pansy coffee drinkers with the grande iced mocha latte, double shot of caramel, extra cinnamon on my whipped cream. No. I’m talking straight up black, no milk, no sugar, the real deal coffee. I’ll drink it anytime, anywhere. One of the ideals of Europe, to me, is drinking a steaming cup of fine Italian coffee, reading a paper, and smelling the rain. Sounds nice, right? But the coffee is the heart of it. Without it, the point is void.

Like people who are experts in wine (“Wineys”), I was pretty much on my way to becoming a total expert in coffee (making me a “coffee-y”?). Yes, I’ve had my share in Ethiopian, Columbian, Venezuelan, Italian, French, American, Malawian, Indian. I know my way around. I could tell you that Indian is sweet and delicious. Malawian is as rich as tree root, with a sweet tang that rises through your nose. Ethiopian is as “boner” (so strong you feel it as deep as your bones) as it comes. Colombian and Venezuelan fill you up to your toes, and Italian is so strong it almost feels healthy. Are you getting my drift?

So I was pretty much at a loss for words when I learned I was hereby restricted from strong drinks like coffee, as they stimulate acid in the stomach, which then stimulates the ulcers in there too.

My plan, however, is to talk to a doctor as soon as I get home from this ridiculous continent and have them test me out. if there aren’t any ulcers on the screen, forget it. I’m taking it back up again. If there are…well, then I’ll deal with that when it comes.

I just decided a couple weeks ago that I’m going to pursue International Studies (French emphasis) and a Political Science minor. This requires that I take amazing classes under the categories of literature, languages, history, art, international relations…it’s pretty much the most excellent path for me. I can’t believe it took me so long to figure it out.

One of the other requirements is living abroad yet again, only this time in France, in the alps, in a small Alpine village that overlooks Lake Geneva. Can it be any more picturesque, any less Africa, thus any more perfect? Maybe you can hear the desperation to get away from this place seeping through these words and pictures.

What can I do? I am plagued by a rotten body imagine, a vegan diet (that I am really trying so hard to follow but it’s getting to the point where none of it feels worth it anymore), ulcers, babysitting students that all have ADD, ADHD, no motivation or a bad attitude, and am constantly bogged down by the frustrations of a third-world country (the power went out AGAIN this morning. And our water was off yesterday. And when that happens every week for ten straight months, patience wears thin, folks). Oh god, god! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses in this world! Fie upon it, ah fie! Tis an unweeded garden grows to seed. Things rank and gross in nature posses it merely. That it should come to this!...

Okay, Hamlet rant.

I should probably stop this before I move onto Macbeth..