Love Explosion.

Last week I had something of a breakdown. And I hate admitting that because I am enough of a spaz already, so I don't want to perpetuate my nonsense, but I had something that was similar to a breakdown. And I don't really know how it happened, but since then I feel like there's a lot more love towards people in my life currently. And I hope that doesn't sound contradictory, because while I might not act it out all the time, I feel it whenever I sit in chapel or make dinner with people, there's just this appreciation and contentment I have with everyone that I live with. And I mean, we have our issues, but we are all really quick to apologize to each other if anything happens, at least that's my observation. And I don't know if everyone is feeling this or if it's just because I have gotten over the "everyone is bugging me" stage and everyone is actually pretty cool, or if I just genuinely love them. I hope it's the latter. I just realized that I feel embarrassed writing this, given its vile delivery into my blog.

But I do feel like there has been a love explosion. Things that used to bug me don't really anymore. And I don't know if that is because I have taken the mentality of accepting it in someone, or just simply overlooking it because I love them. Or maybe both. It probably is both, because you love someone by accepting them as they are. I don't know. But to people in the house that read this: I have sunk my claws of loyalty into this group. You probably won't ever be able to remove them. So deal with it.

I realized that in my last blog when I was whining about having nothing to blog about that I freaking decided to give up the mother tongue for 40 days. I started it last week, so today I am starting week number 2. And let me tell you, I almost died from its difficulty last week. It's really good to do, but man, it was hard. I realized how much I really do talk. So, for anyone who has known me the past 15-20 years, I am really, really sorry. I had to be silent, a lot, because I have not yet mastered the art of the snarky comment in Spanish. So, I only spoke in basic sentences and asked simple questions. Another part of the problem is that there aren't a lot of people in the house that have advanced Spanish, because there are a lot of beginners or intermediates that are just learning a bunch of stuff, and so if I want to rattle off something in Spanish, I don't expect a lot of people to know what I am talking about right off the bat. And that sounds terribly snobby, but I don't mean it to be at all. I am really proud of the people that have taken this Spanish thing head on, coming to a Spanish speaking (and when I say Spanish speaking I mean Spanish Speaking, that people only speak Spanish. There is not a high percentage of people that are bilingual. You can find people that speak English, but it is rare.) country and learning it all. It's the best way to learn a language, honestly, and I don't think that I could do what they are doing. So props to y'all. Keep it up. But I talk to my roomate in Spanish, and that helps, but the thing that helps is talking to a local that is learning English but speaks Spanish. Yesterday, I hung out with someone who speaks good English, but Spanish is his first language. So we talked back and forth, in Spanish and English, and I probably spoke more consistent Spanish than I had all week. And I did well. And since everyone tells me how hard I am on myself all the time, it is good when I say I feel like I progressed a lot yesterday. I can tell I progress when I don't have to think about what I say before I say it. And I was doing a lot of that. I mean, I wasn't telling epic stories and we weren't talking about philosophy, but the less I have to think about Spanish, the better. And that goes for anyone. If you don't have to think about it, that means it's almost second nature. The only thing that concerns me is people are always like "I had a dream in Spanish!" and I never have. Yet I consider myself on the more fluent side. But dreaming in Spanish is a sign of fluency. So I am confused. Then again, my dreams have never had much talking in them. Actually, now that I think about it, my dreams are never verbal. They are usually just really, really strange. I probably don't talk in them because I talk enough during the day so that my brain works during the night and tries to put words in my dreams, but then realizes that I have expended so many of them during they day, there's not really much to say in my dreams. Maybe now since I am talking less my brain will be able to throw some Spanish in my dreams. Maybe some French. Or Chinese. Maybe a dead language if my brain gets around to it.

We are going to the Teatro Solis toniiight! I am beyond excited. That means we get to dress up. I definitely have my outfit picked out. I've had it picked out since about 2 and a half weeks ago. After I typed that I already felt the judgment of all y'all reading this. Don't judge. It's a flipping awesome outfit. Teal heels from Buenos Aires? You cannot even mess with that awesomeness. Whatever. I am excited. We are going to listen to the Philharmonic. Classical music and teal heels make for an awesome evening. I probably will end up at Cafe Bacacay, because that is just what tends to happen with me. I feel like when I have my last meal in Uruguay, I will end up stopping there. And hugging all of the waiters and waitresses there. And basically act a fool.

It is still weird to think that I am in Uruguay. I mean, when I got here, I was like whoa! I am in Uruguay! But now, I find myself just being all, I am in South America. Still. I am living in a foreign country. But it doesn't feel all that foreign anymore. I mean, it feels foreign in some ways, but Uruguay and its people have welcomed me with open arms and forgiven my grevious and mostly atrocious cross-cultural faux pas and introduced me to a little piece of heaven called Dulce de Leche and black coffee with cream. And Cortados. This is a magnificent place. I judge you fools for not knowing about it. But, then again, I don't, because a few short months ago I was an ignorant fool. But Uruguay is a hidden treasure. And it feels like home. Not all aspects, of course, because they do not have chunky peanut butter (why? I have no idea. I don't know why they are so vehemenently opposed to the idea of putting pieces of the initial ingredient in the finished product) and spray hair products, and my labradoodle, and mongolian barbecue. But still. All things aside, it is like my home. I know where things are. I can speak the language (ish). I have made friends here. I now comprehend the concept of milk in a bag and the fact that they serve a shot glass of sparking water with your coffee. I feel like I am reaching the phase where I am not utter toursit sauce but I am still an American. I don't know what that would be called. Something akin to an ex-pat, I assume. Not that I am an ex-pat, but any means, but just the fact that I am not a tourist anymore, I take buses and walk everywhere. I know where the good shopping is and I am not afraid to go places by myself. I don't think that I am completely assimilated into the culture, but it is not new to me. I don't understand all of the politics completely, or the nuance they carry, nor do I understand all of the social implications, but I have time to learn. But I feel like I have learned and grown monumentally since I have been here.

We are going to Rocha this weekend. I am definitely excited. I feel like I have caught the travel bug again. This time he is coming back with a vengeance and rearing his ugly head. In a bad way. Good thing I get to go to Chile. and Brazil. Otherwise, I might die from complacency.