It's officially one month till I return home to America. After some planning and discussion, I moved back (up?) my flight from the 14th to the 22nd. Undoubtedly one of the more expensive decisions of my life, but I can't help but feel completely blessed that my mom and my family have been so supportive of my wanting to take advantage of every opportunity that life has placed before me. I may die tomorrow, or in a few months, or maybe 70 years from now. That uncertainty coupled with my life experiences has taught me that if things are meant to happen, then by the grace of God they will. So I won't deny the chance to travel around Europe if God's opening the door for me. Who would?

I'm slowly but surely assembling the plans for my European adventures. Everything is disconcertingly up in the air right now, and I don't want to call home or post any details till I have everything solidified (I know I haven't called you Mom, and I apologize. But as Manong could attest to my online presence, I'm quite alive and well and I don't want to call and get into a long, possibly heated discussion about my plans till they've solidified. Why pander over something that's up in the air?) But as of right now, Paris is definitely on the books...

It's about 2am here, and I'm listening to a bit of Tchaikovsky, who I've been in the mood for ever since I saw the ballet last week.

I'm quite upset that I'll be spending my first Thanksgiving away from home. To my horror, I'll be spending 2 out of my 3 favorite holidays of the year: Thanksgiving and Black Friday. It's a family tradition! I hope I'll have more to eat than just a turkey sandwich on Thursday...

Friday is my birthday. My first birthday where I'm not greeted by a "Happy birthday" and a kiss from my mom and, depending if my birthday lands on Thanksgiving or not, either a shove and a reprimand that it's 11:30am to get up and clean the house (which would already be set up by the time I walk downstairs, natch), breakfast if it's the weekend, or a goodbye because she's about to leave for work. No once-a-month hug and kiss from my brother and genuinely wondering how old I was turning (I think he guessed 17 two years in a row). No measuring how long it took for the rest of my family to realize that it indeed was my birthday.

I'll be two decades old. I hope I've done enough with my life to consider it a milestone achievement. Twenty seems so... decadent, so immersed in youthful exuberance and fantasy that it's almost uncomfortable for me. As many, including my own family, could attest to, I don't exactly live a life of decadence and exuberance. I like intimate conversations, coffee, classical music, cuddling on the couch watching a movie, wine, small house parties with friends playing beer pong or playing video games.

Simplicity and subtlety. I don't do well with complexity and extravagance.

Bleh, I should get to bed soon. The hall is quiet, which means a better chance of falling asleep peacefully. My sleep patterns have been getting better. I have a crap-ton of essays to do in the next three weeks, so hopefully that'll help.

PS If you're interested in my academic writings, here are some samples of what I'm working on so far.

http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/elopez

http://whispertoaroar.pbworks.com

PPS I was homesick so I cooked chicken adobo and tacos last week. I've met people here who've never had a burrito or a taco before. We Californians really take Mexican food for granted.