I feel like crying and screaming at once and I'm not altogether sure why. I do think it has something to do with eexhaustion though at this point I have slept enough today that I should no longer be exhausted. Which leaves me what? Where?
Summercase was wonderful and fun and so full of great music I can't even complain about passing out during Jarvis Cocker or missing Arcade Fire when Lauren got sick because sitting down in the microclimate (god I love that term) with water and random Spanish folk made every minute worth it.
[Methinks, perhaps, there is some sadness/depression/inescapable fear because the event highlight of my summer is now come and gone.]
I am hungry. Several media noches from Rodilla and an empanada from Moncloa would do the trick, but I am too lazy/tired/late to go into Madrid for mere sandwiches and come back again. Yet another reason why the suburbs are subpar. If only there were someplace to get a damned bocadillo in this all too American landscape of highway and backyard houses on a Sunday afternoon (evening now?).
I am peeling, too. Ashes to ashes; I cannot seem to apply enough lotion to keep my body from flaking apart.
Which brings me to the tears and screams. I miss my bed, my room, my family, my language, and my proximity to city streets and busy stores more than I can handle right now. It is not the same homesickness that I felt for the first couple weeks here. No, I just wish I could have a break from it all. A week at home. Or for this summer to be over with the promise of a return to Spain and job and friends here in the coming year.
But that is far from likely. Which means I need to suck it up and try to love every minute I have here in this country, even if I am stuck here in no man's land.
What a couple of days.
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