Its reallly hard trying to be freinds with peole through the internet. Especially when they are hurting, suffering, unhappy. I want to gather you all in a large room for a group hug. I want to tell you its all gonna be OK...I want to lie to you and make you feel better. I want to tell you the truth and remind you that all things pass and all things are important.

Human life is much like plant life, except for the working with the rest of nature thing. We are all interconnected and everything we do effects another human being.

Please be true to your heart. Please make difficulty decisions if they will help you and the people around you. Please dont ever let go. Because i need you and so many others do too.

Please eat good food and enjoy the sun, or the rain, or the snow...

Top Ten things I will remember about/Realized in Monte Verde Orientation

1. I fell in Love with another boy who will never love me back

2. I love sheets. I didn´t have them for two weeks and sleeping in a bed without sheets and dirty covers is less then comfortable

3. Costa Rica is not paradise

4. Every family is messed up and all men cheat

5. The bus almost drove of of a cliff and I thought -well, at least, when I die, I´ll be looking at a rainbow and the perfect picture of green

6. I am such a prude

7. In the US we don´t even understand the concept of bugs. Try little bugs on the floor and in the cracks. Big ones crawling in your shoes, gross ones waiting in your shower. Find thousands in your hotel bathroom drawn to the solatery light above your sink...

8. I´m a stickler for guys who are soft around the edges

9. The hot Tico guys ¨accidently¨ touching my ass

10. I know enough Spanish to get by...I know enough Spanish to want more...I know enough Spanish to feel it in my veins and crave it and hope that it will come.

Im in Cosat Rica. Its crazy.

i have so much to say, but only five minutes to say it.

Its been, scary, exciting, horrible, fun, boring, all of that all in one.

but most notably Costa Rica is beyond beautiful. i never realized places like costa rica exist, but im so happy they do.

Ok, so after reading everyone’s Blogs, I have come to the realization that I am a complete slacker. Haven’t written anything in like 3 weeks or something crazy like that...but seriously, it's been very hectic around here. Christmas, snow, trying to see all of my friends, been to the mall like fifty times trying to buy everything for study abroad, and packing, I haven't gone to bed until 2am every morning.

The scary day is tomorrow. The day I get on a plane and fly to Costa Rica and give up my very regular, no thrills, life here in the US. Am I ready? No of course not, and you know me, I’m totally doing the ellie freak out thing too. So this last two weeks has been stressful, but fun and I've come to appreciate my little sister even more, if that's possible. She really is my best friend in Portland.

Cassie, I got the scarf. Thank you so much, it was a wonderful surprise.

Andy, Weird dream...so did you write that letter to sensei?

Uyen, good job writing Spanish!

I miss everyone sooooooooooooo much. I keep thinking that I’m gonna get of the plane in Costa Rica, and all of the people from Soka are gonna be standing there waiting for me. But no. It will be strangers and I’m gonna have to make friends again, which I might add has been incredibly difficult for me to do in the past, so wish me luck.

I'll try and keep writing on this thing and I’ll try not to write in code, but I’m not promising much.

He's really sick. And I always knew. He has that sick man lateness and that sick man humor. But he's stronger than his illness and he will be with us for many years...i am so happy to know him. If I could, I would reach inside of his body and rip out the virus that has already killed him. When the word Terminal is attached to anything you know, it could be any day. It makes me shaky to think about how strong he is and how much he has given me, and how he was the one who finally made me feel again.

I think you might be jaded.

I wish everyone knew how much I suffered for him...Pined for him...gave my love for the first time to him. How much we went through, me crying on his floor. "Let it all out," he said. How come he is so good. Then they might stop asking where and how and when...then they would know how deep his love for someone else cuts me. You have no idea. And suddenly he's beautiful. And suddenly you are competition. And suddenly I remember how good it felt to know he was far away...unable to touch me.

I think you might be tainted.

Hmmm. I'm in a sort of in between stage right now, which is always good because it means I'm niether happy nor sad just tryin' to stay alive. Just tryin' to wait for the time when I get on the plane to meet mi familia y comemos mucha comida.

She was so empty. He was desperate to fill her, but he didn't know how...

If my mouth even opens right now, the words: Why am I so sad, why am I so sad, why am I so sad will come pouring out. Anyone...anything, anything, anything.

The girl looks at her hands, the sun pouring orange and painful. She whispers, "end it."

The empty is in a specific place in my body. right above where my food settles. and it radiates to my finger and toenails and it shows in my puffy creased eyes.

I'm trying to keep all of the parts together. Crazy is threatening me. Anything, anything, anything...anyone.

The monotony is torture. I hate it when I realize how sad I actually am. The emotions suddenly rising to the top because of a song or a book...a memory. And then I am faced with the reality of my seemingly endless dance with pain. We rock slowly back and forth together, while I reminisce about the things I thought about when I was ten. Pain sweeps around my body and holds me. and hides me. Pain comes and rescues me from my obscene hope that I could ever accomplish my dreams. "silly girl," pain whispers in my ear, "haven't we already been through this. You can run, but eventually you'll run out of breath."

Is it ok to have thoughts of beating one of your teachers down? I hope so...

I feel like I might just buy a plane ticket out of this crazy place. This place with all of its arrogant academics and people who think they are intellectually superior in comparison with..."the blue collars."

I'm so sick of defining myself by the papers I turn in. I'm tired of constantly trying to defend my intelligence. Trying to get up to par with the superiors who think that becoming like them is the right thing to do.

I'm so over it. I'm over APA and MLA and cover pages. Running heads haunt my dreams and the smug looks other students get when they are doing better than their friends. This is not a healthy environment. I am feeling just about as good as the dirt on my shoe and I'm tired.

Fuzzy, hazy, confusion. I want to understand everything...but nothing is true. Sleep deprived fog feels like ghostly howls. In and out of normal...hair spinning out of control. Feisty buzz of endless words. Lit review...Pointless...Point shoes.

I think it's time for a positive blog...I got the high score in psychology on the midterm...Happiness...I'm not as bad as I think. Seems like it's time to own my good qualities, and let them be important to me. More important than that silent scuffling in the back of my brain that wears me down.

I love my friends. I love my not friends. I love the possibilities.

I am invisible. If you need a definition, read invisible man by Ralph Ellison and you to will be invisible. Outside of time.

My friend Christina's father was murdered and then her brother and sister's dad raped her. She knows suffering.

She's hilarious.
She understands my mom.
She's much older then her years.

I love her light. I love her cheeks and the way they crease in the middle when she smiles. I miss her way down deep like dreams.

I dreamt about Wuyuki last night. And I missed him from my stomach.

His dad was also murdered and he is invisible like in my book. Or at least he's tried his hardest to be. But he's much to beautiful for that, and people are drawn to him like they're drawn to fatty foods or good books. He's complicated. There's this network of lies inside his head that he's been constantly telling himself to make him appear to others the way he feels. And I've tried and tried to wade through the lies and see the real inside, but It's been a losing battle. But I miss him way down deep, like thirst.

My dad's father beat his mother and my dad feels the pain deeper then thirst. He feels the pain throughout time and universal truth. And I miss him way down deep like love.

Missing the real.
Missing the truth.
Way down deep I'm missing messed up human beings.
Way down deep I'm missing how it was OK to be messed up
How it was worn on the sleeve like a badge and the people wearing the pain didn't even notice it waving there like death in the breeze...

She circles the tray with her finger and waits for the exact right moment to stand. If she stands now she's sure her knees will buckle beneath her and the hip that has been waiting to crack in three places finally will. When she does get up the air becomes dense and she inhales sharply wishing the light she sees would make it's way in. She picks up the tray, which seems to weigh 100 pounds. She steadies her hand and hopes the people in the Cafeteria can't see it shaking. 'I'm to old for this. Much to old.' But then the voice in her head cries out, 'don't be stupid! You're only as old as you feel.

She makes her way to the tray caddy and sighs with relief when she can finally slip the tray off her fingers, the unbearable weight of it all. Her friend makes her way over with her own tray. 'Are we really that wrinkly,' she thinks looking into her friends face. Shrugging in her head, she backs away from the caddy and hikes her purse higher on her shoulder. "Let's go." Her friend starts walking and she follows...and she follows and has no idea where she's going except down, way down.

Should write something, 'cause I feel like I'm going to implode. All of the outside sucked in to the dark middle that's waiting for the beak down.

Empty
Empty

Waiting for something to fill me up.

Empty
Empty

White

He smelled like pez, when he should have smelled like sweat and tears.

The driver has a red haired boy and knows all about fishing.

I really am a character in a play. And I'm playing my part too well. And I'm ready to jump off the page into a new script, the one I write for myself.

the wind

streams

through

the speakers

illuminated the sun

shines

i'm brighter

then most

of

my thoughts

you translate

and i'll lay

here

i'm confused

by

myself

all alone

with

your hand in

her pocket

speaking

words

of poetry

infused with

I love him

because

isn't it

always

about

my

closet

i'm in it

but not like

i

want a

woman

wants

a man

hidden behind the clothes

i'm in it

sobbing about

mis amigos

mi espanol

sucks

so

it

will never

end

this dream

translated

into

tongues

touching

across oceans

our fingertips

won't meet

but we

are so close

the electricity

sparks

hot yellow

blue

green

endless fields

trees

of eternity

and

I

remember

someone once

said

it'll be

OK.

I clicked the light on ten times...

Walked outside...

and I was lost.

Oh he swept down on me and he took me away... to places I had always dreamed.

And I cried just a little and laughed just a little...

And I'm OK.