Sick Lit Papers & Stuff.

In exactly two weeks I leave Milano. It's a hard concept to understand. So I've stopped trying to come to an understanding and have made an attempt to head straight for acceptance. I, Ann Erling, will be leaving Italy in exactly 2 weeks. Accepted. Because what else is there to do? I've cried about it once. Not even crying, mostly just my eyes welling up at the thought of saying goodbye. It would have gone completely unnoticed had his face not been so close to my own. I tried to deny it, "No, I'm not crying." I was called a fibber. Which I was. I'm tragically sentimental. I'll miss the most annoying things, I know it already. When I'm back home with my Elentra heading toward the Hornbacher's at 3am I'll be feeling pangs of homesickness for Italy and the Green Line and the two block walk to the local GS that closes at 8pm. And I realize how awkward my homecoming will be at the strangest times. Like tonight, while at the Chinese-Pizza Place I was listening to Drew tell the story about Leif and Ryan hiding his pizza and watching John laugh at his roommates and imaging the boys giggling while a hungry Drew grew increasingly angry over the disappearance of his pizza. I think I'll miss my almost daily walks down Via Ampere the most. Among other things.
*la sigh.
This weekend was one of spectacular fairs.
Ryan and Chelsea and Linz-Day and I headed to the end of the Red Line on Friday to scope out the Giant Fiera going down. It was giant world expo type of deal and we ate Thai food and I bought prayer flags from the Nepal tent.
Then the next day Ryan and I hit up the San Ambrogio fair at the Castle. I bought books and complained of the cold while Ryan and his classmates enjoyed Italian conversation.
The rest of the weekend involved movies and Chinese food and drinking way too much tequila. I then proceded to sleep all day today and start my paper at 12:30am. Mere hours before being due. And here I am, up too late, feeling slightly sick to my stomach and yet still clicking away.
I can sleep when I'm dead, or when I'm back in Fargo and the time isn't quiet as precious to me.
I'm optimistic. I booked a flight to DC in January. And my classload for next semester may or may not have shrunk significantly.
blah.
Time for bed.
Buona Notte, ya'll.