All of my diaries have been short lived. No matter how b’dazzled or fuzzy my journals were, I just couldn’t wrap my head around the intro “Dear Diary.” “Who the heck is this enigmatic “diary” and are they really reading my heartfelt letters of childhood strife and playground woes?” I wondered, picking my nose. I decided not, and hence wasted pages upon pages of immaculate lined paper.
In an attempt to preserve a tree or two (who am I kidding? This is entirely self indulgent), I’ve created this blog to chronicle the likely hilarious encounters I’ll experience in the next five months. Who is “diary?” Thanks to the Internet, it’s you!
It’s 2AM the day before my departure. I’ve spent the last twelve hours practicing geometry and working out my arm muscles. That is, I’ve been packing and re-packing clothes, photos, a strange plethora of socks, and other probably unnecessary tchotchkes into 2 suitcases that I probably couldn’t lift if I tried.
Here’s a list of things I probably don’t need but am bringing anyway:
1. 3 bottles of perfume
2. My Cheetah Coat
3. Every single camera I own
4. Stuffed animals (don’t judge)
5. Like, 30 pairs of socks
6. The Dez…I mean, what?
The Dez, for those of you who are unaware, is my labradoodle. She’s ridiculous and I’m actually convinced that she’s her own species of creature. I’ve successfully quarantined The Dez (Desi, if you’re not into the whole brevity thing) into my room. Whether she likes it or not, we’re snuggling tonight. And damnit, if I can’t sleep, neither should she!
Tomorrow, I say goodbye to Smart Phone capabilities, reliable Internet access, and the capability to understand anything anyone says, ever. Tomorrow at 4PM, I head to Rome. Ahead of me I have five months of legal drinking and way too much pizza. I know it’ll be a lot different from Boston, but I’ve said “Ciao” to my loved ones and am off on a ridiculously exciting journey. I promise I’ll keep you (diary) laughing (under your breath with jealousy) and smiling (with bitter disdain). But more importantly, I promise I won’t kill my roommate. And if I do, I won’t blog about it.
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