the remains of a deity

Ahh, there you are, America! You old cod, right where I left you. It's always in the LAST place you look, isn't it? Damn.

Now that I have returned from my enlightening sabbatical abroad, I find American ohsovery droll. These crazy kids and their wide streets and free water. Damn I'm cultured!

I find it really difficult to answer the ubiquitous query, "How was Italy?", largely because of my well-documented and eternally vexing battle with adjectives, those tricky bitches. My first reaction is, I don't really remember. It's very much like a dream, which is crazy considering that for four months nothing else in the world, or about my old life, seemed real. I think it's because almost everything in your day-to-day is in implicit compromise with the other aspects of your life, whereas study abroad was the sole focus of my attentions last semester, and anything else I experienced fell under that umbrella. It seems as though my Study Abroad Experience is wrapped up in a neat little bubble that is a distant yet pleasant memory, floating further and further away.

I've just started telling people something along the lines of, "Oh, it was amazing. It was by far the coolest thing I've ever done". That seems to suffice. It makes me feel awkwardly over-privileged.

The difficulty is expounded when anyone asks me what my favorite city was or what the best part was, and my first instinct is to say, well to really understand why it was so amazing, you have to know about the doctor and her clavel, as well as Art's female magnetism. And then that means nothing to anyone else. Now I'M okay with that, but I don't know how anyone else reacts to my kind of vacant expression a vague assertion that yes, in fact, I DID love being abroad, despite how dopey I look.

You might be saying, stop indulging yourself, the "how was study abroad" question is obviously obligatory. Praise Blogah for bestowing the ability to wax poetic about the trials and tribulations of returning from a whimsical jaunt in Europe. Ay me!

It's odd to return from my suspension of time & reality.

Unrelated, but I like to think I'm not the weakest liquor in the cabinet, but I'm losing faith; I have recently realized I am not even remotely smart enough to keep up with Lost. I've watched all the seasons previous to the latest, and I've been trying to keep up, but I can barely follow it. I have such a limited understanding of the goings-on and I'm feeling a little left out. Maybe it's because I hate all the characters.