As I write this blog, my roommate is teaching our friend Prema how to salsa. Earlier, I walked through the living room to fill my cup with more hot water for tea and was suddenly dancing, wrapped up in the music, in the "pasos," in the laughter. It's not even noon and this house is filled with love and happiness.
It is April, and I am content. The tension I felt in January and February has dissipated completely. My roommates and I are getting along. I eat lunch with Kanke every Wednesday. Caitlin invites me to her friends parties. I miss Mari, but I'm dealing.
Every day, I wake up at 6:45am (on my own accord) and I write until 12:30 or 1:30pm. I write in my blog, travel articles, an essay for which I need to find a home, queries, copywriting. After a healthy lunch here (yes, I'm still vegetarian), I often go and read about journalism--in lieu of a second degree--though I'm contemplating that too. After the cafe, I head to the gym and either take class, life weights or ride on the bike. I have a super kickass ipod playlist that carries me through the worst of it. Then, sometimes I meet my friends for ice cream, sometimes I go home and read until it's time for bed. Then I do it all again. And it makes me incredibly happy.
Sure the metro at peak hours is super scary--it's a mob sometimes and I get carried by the crowd. Yesterday I almost couldn't get out and I had to yank my backpack past two people in the very front that wouldn't get off the train to let people by. (at that hour, I wouldn't have either--the rule is never give an inch...ever).
I read the whole time. It's my form of a personal bubble, my defense against the Chilean cutters and those who pack themselves like sardines on the trains. I hold my book up and don't look at the world. If someone gets to close to me, my book is liable to accidently rub against their hair, their face, their shoulder. Sometimes they glare at me. But I just smile and read on. They can move if it bothers them I've decided.
I've taken to reading not just on the train but during the walk to the transfer train and the walk home. I look up from my book only for stairs and streets. I'm sort of surprised I didn't discover read-walking earlier, after all I love both activities. Occasionally I trip over over a root or run into someone, but most people see that I'm not looking and get out of my way. This is by far better than trying to walk my own pace through the crowd. I'm happy, less stressed out, less frustrated with the strollers. I just walk and pay attention to the story unfolding in my head. It's the only way to do the metro at 6:30pm.
The weather has turned from unbearable to breezy. It's like a gift from the gods. My life feels that way too.
I feel lucky. I'm grateful for everyone that helped me here, helped me become who I am, helped me find my way. It is in these moments when I feel like no matter what happens, things will work out. They just have a way of working out.
That's why I'm writing to also say that if anyone, anyone out there can take my 2 cats for a few months, please let me know! I know it will work out somehow, I'd just like to know how :)