During my art history course Wednesday morning, I hit a writing frenzy. I grabbed my journal and let my pen take over. I tried to stop and listen to the conversation on the Japanese Fluxus movement, but I couldn't. My mind was rushing and I needed the release.
This is what I wrote...
This entire semester my shoulders have been rolling forward. I have made many attempts at rolling them back-- opening myself up-- but without success. I have been sheltering myself, "don't get too involved." The ephemerality of this experience has not made me cherish every moment, but instead distance myself from every moment. "This is not real." "This is not my home." "This doesn't matter." These ideas have framed my existence.
"I am not really here" is not a statement, but a state of mind, a state of being. This has been my existence this semester. I haven't felt entirely myself because I haven't been entirely here. I haven't been present, because I needed to be sheltered. My shoulders allowed me to be self-preserving, self-sufficient, and self-aware. I haven't been so open to others but I have been incredibly self-reflective.
My posture is a signifier, a metaphor, an omen, a teacher. It carries my history and shows me my future, while always present to real time.

On Wednesday night, for the first time, I found myself sad to be leaving...

Dear you,
I specifically chose not to start a blog during my journey abroad because I thought they were too impersonal. Instead I chose to send mass emails addressed to "you guys" and "y'all" and "my friends and relatives." I thought that sending my thoughts and stories to a contact list of 100+ was somehow more personal and special than this open forum. Maybe it was also a little selfish. I wanted people to read my thoughts and I especially wanted hear repsonses. I figured that sending the notes directly to the email box greatened my chances for dialogue, though disconnected. It was also an easy way for me to keep in touch with aquaintances whom I thought were pretty cool, but we hadn't yet gotten to the point in our relationship to carry on decent online chatter.
But I guess this forum relieves the pressure of email. I have really enjoyed writing mass emails during the past 7 months, but I often wonder what will happen when I return to school, see the majority of my contact list on a daily basis, and my life returns to routine. I write emails when something really noteworthy happens; when an event that has shaken my life might in some way resognate with "y'all." This is howI keep connected and continue writing during a somewhat mundane life, or rather a life with less foreign language.

I will write to you, the singular. I will write about the exciting and mundane. I will try to share details that are too specific to share with "you guys." I will ponder, question, and ramble as I do with pen and paper daily. I will write to you, as you stare at your computer screen, because you chose to check my progress by your own free will.
Thank you for lending me your eyes and mind. I would love to hear back and maybe we can engage in a disconnected dialogue.
I hope you are doing well.
Get some rest and take care of yourself.
yours truly,
annie...