Life and Death and What Happens in Argentina

I think we've all had those days, where at the end of them, you sit back and realize life as you know it will never be the same. Once in awhile, those days are good days. Like the day you got your first kiss, or graduated from high school. But quite often, those days just don't have that positive of an outcome. I mean, it's life, and as we've come to figure out, "it's not easy". 

I've been having my fair share of these moments. The moments where you think, really life? Some of them have been minor incidents: being electrocuted, spending my birthday in a hospital, living in a dorm full of insects and community showers. But then there are times when you know nothing could ever be the same.

I knew this when I decided to come here. Of course, how could life ever regress to the state it was in previously? I anticipated that, eagerly looked forward to it like a kid going into Jr. High for their first day. Obviously I knew there would be school work, but wow, the big leagues! Until, consequently, you realized you didn't place in the smart kids math class, history with Mr. Sanford is sinfully boring, and owning your very own locker isn't quite as cool as it was made out to be.

Now that's not to say Jr. High wasn't a blast (minus the potent reek of hormones and wildly uncontrollable drama caused by pre-teenage angst) But what happens when that same situation is taken into a life a little bit older, I don't know... say mine, for example?

This is where it gets tricky. I already lived out Jr. High. The life changes in those two years were enough. But here I am again, going through the same roller coaster of feelings that any teenybopper could easily identify with. Emotions are high, life is confusing, and I'm living in an alternate reality. A reality where pesos are money, dogs run wild and some tribal language is being forcibly stuffed into my brain. This goes without saying that whilst being here I have completely lost any idea of where my life is supposed to go, which is kind of stepping all over the toes of the reason why I came here, metaphorically speaking of course.

So I resort to painting while watching action movies that do not interest me whatsoever. Now please don't think I'm pent up with an artists moodiness and am trying to figure out the meaning of life. Not in the least. How could I be moody when I have been handed this excellent opportunity? Who else gets to do this (besides the 60 or so people who are here... duh)  Umm.. the answer? Not a whole lot. I can't thank God, my family and friends for supporting me while I'm doing my own thing over here enough.. Anyone whose here can testify for how much we all miss home. We are all counting down the days until that plane lands back in the states to our own turf. No, we're literally counting. I did the math and its 117 days total. 67 days more of class and 50 days left of weekends and holidays. 

But after all of that math, it only comes down to 1 day. The day that we're talking about specifically is this day.. January 14.  This day, this is a day that will never be forgotten. It will not be looked on with fond memories or with a sigh of contentment, like remembering that day when your parents surprised you with your first bike. No, this day will never have that effect. Its the death of life as I know it. And things will never be the same.