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American students seem to be much more obnoxious with their drinking. I haven't seen any Greek people acting drunk, but the students here "act" drunk. Maybe it's that drinking is a big deal in the states. Turning 21 is like a huge "rite of passage." But, here, drinking is just sort of part of life. That's how I like it. Annoying drunk people are annoying. I have no problem with drinking, I just don't like when people are annoyingly drunk. And, I see no point in getting that wasted, when you can have a good time with half the alcohol.

Plus, alcohol is really expensive. I'm too much of a cheap-skate to drink.

I have felt really "bad" lately. To preface this, my bad is really pathetic compared to other people's bads. I'm definitely making friends with the party people, though. Luckily, the party people here seem to be much more accepting of me than they are in Chicago. In Chicago, I feel like I can't go out with people who are drinking and not drink because the drinking people don't really like that. Here, no one really cares. I went out with a bunch of drunk people last night and it was fine. No one even really noticed I wasn't drinking. But, a couple were way too drunk for my tastes. I still had fun, though. We were playing pool and we were all really bad.

The other morning I was really tired and jet-lagged. I hadn't slept for more than 33 hours and even at that, I hadn't slept well when I did. So, we were supposed to meet at 10 am for an orientation at the AThens Centre--the program who is housing us. I must have turned off my alarm (I've never done that before!) and I woke up at 10:43! So, I had to walk in late while the director of the center was giving a speech. I felt so bad! What an awful first impression. Later that day, I thought I lost my keys and was freaking out. Turned out they were in my bag, exactly where I knew I put them, but underneath a fold I didn't look through.

Then, my friend had some herbal tobacco from a Native American reservation in AZ, so we were smoking it. Everyone thought we were smoking pot (I have to admit, that's exactly what it looked like).

Okay, maybe that's it. Not that bad, I guess.

I think I'll just stick to this blog for Greece. I don't think I set up the Greece one correctly.

Yiasou (yah-sue): Hello
Yamas (ya-mahs): Cheers
Calimera (cal-ee-mare-ah): Good morning
Calispera (cal-ee-spare-ah): Good afternoon
Calinicta (cal-ee-nick-tah): Goodnight
Malaka (ma-la-kah): Wanker
Efcharisto (ef-char-ees-toe): Thank you
Sighnomi (seeg-no-me): Excuse me

Here's a Greece-only blog: yiasoufili@blogspot.com.

1. Liny. I don't know, I just like it.

2. About 3 years.

3. Shorey!

4. I honestly don't remember. I probably didn't expect us to be friends, though. You were really good friends with people that I wasn't friends with, at first. But, I certainly am glad that we are friends now! Even if we never see each other :-)

5. I can't say that "out loud" for fear that that person might read this!

6. You are way to hard on yourself, missy! And, I think that your standards of yourself reflect other people more than you. But, look who's talking, right!

7. Tennis, downloading movies, music, friends, your mom, Nemo, cute people, Dr. Brommer

8. Not doing well on something, procrastinating, being a high apple

9. Nothing specific, really. But, I often am reminded of you when I see random things that I think you'd like!

10. A perfect MCAT score! But, only if you'd earned it, which I know you have :-)

11. Last Wednesday.

12. That I think you're fantastic and inspiring and I'm proud of all that you do!

13. Strength.

14. Hmmm...I don't think so.

I get a great deal of satisfaction from organizing the placement of dishes in a dishwasher. I'm not exactly sure why. I doubt that "putting dishes in a dishwasher" tops most people's fun things to do list, but it certainly tops mine. Well, I don't know if it's that it's that fun, or, if, like I said before, it's just really satisfying. My mom is really careless as to the placement of dishes in the dishwasher here and it really bugs me. Not because I think dishes have to go in a certain way, but because we could fit a whole lot more in the dishwasher if things went in with certainty and deliberation. I love it when there's a pile of dishes that just don't look like they're going to fit within the available spaces on either rack, but a little rearranging reveals once non-existent space.

Clearly, it doesn't take much to make me excited or satisfied. It's the little things in life that bring me the most enjoyment, and I'm more than happy to keep it that way.

One week later, I find myself in another packing situation. This one, though very different, is proving to be just as tricky as last week's adventure. Last week, I had to figure out how to fit all of my stuff in a few boxes, whereas this week, I have to figure out how to fit very little into one large suitcase. Here's the kicker--what does one pack along for a 16 week vacation? I'm bringing very little, I know that. But, what to bring, exactly, I have no idea.

So, instead of packing, I am fixing my camera strap and researching schools in Barcelona. Two very important tasks, but methods of procrastination, nonetheless. The language school is proving difficult. I'm deciding between two schools (one is nearly half as much as the other-yet, that, in itself, is rather worrisome) and whether to go the homestay or shared flat route. I wanted to do homestay, but now I'm worried about being put in an out-of-the-way place that will be hard to commute to and from. As far as the schools go, the cheaper one doesn't have any cultural activities. So, do I want that, or not? I have to decide. Clearly, I'm going to find cultural activities on my own, but it might be nice to have a few organized for me.

Okay, back to fixing my camera strap. The people at the hardware store weren't listening to me, so I came home with something I didn't want because they thought they knew what I was doing, but they didn't. On a happier note, two young cute guys helped me out, a lot. They seemed quite pleased to talk to me and were eager to show me exactly where the volt converters were. I really don't like being the "girl"-you know, not understanding manly things and needing help-but sometimes, it's not all that bad!

I'm pretty much done with this packing thing. It was especially overwhelming. Maybe it was the mix of turning 21, moving out, leaving the country, talking to Jess and figuring out how to fit all my stuff, but I was feeling pretty overwhelmed for a couple hours. I really just wanted someone to be here. I sort of wanted to cry, but I wasn't really sad. It's kinda weird. Mostly, I just wanted to have a release of some sort, and sometimes that's what crying is good for.

Sweat is also a great release. I really enjoy sweating. Not sweating for the sake of sweating-like when it's hot outside, or something. But, sweating from physical exertion. It feels so good. I always feel so cleansed and rejuvinated after a good, long workout. But, really, it's the sweating that does it for me. I don't find swimming nearly as satisfying as I do other forms of aerobics, and I attribute this to the sweat factor. I don't feel sweat when I swim.

I love when I'm sweating so much that the salty drops from my face drip into my eyes and onto my lips. Sweat is like a very tangible confirmation of the completion of hard work. The other day, I went to the gym and sweated for 2 hours! It felt amazingly good. I hadn't had that in about a few days, so the sweat was much appreciative of my activity. The kickboxing room is normally super hot. There are lots of us in the room and we're all working really hard, so there's a lot of sweating going on in there. This morning, however, there was a fan in the room. The air felt great-especially during the especially trying parts of the workout-but, it just wasn't the same. I didn't sweat as much. I think the air flow made me more energetic, but at the same time, it was as satisfying as the usual sweat-drenched-t-shirt-inducing workout that I love.

Later, I sweated when I was moving my stuff. That's not the kind of sweating that I like, though. Sweating when I'm not supposed to is really rather unpleasant. Then it just feels dirty and sticky. It's the exercise sweat that is the best.

Tomorrow, I probably won't sweat like that. I'll have to make sure that it happens on Thursday, though.

Okay, so the clothes thing was a lot harder than I remember. I have a lot of clothes! I don't know why I always think that I don't have anything to wear. Kinda ridiculous, come to think of it. However, I think the biggest issue is that I have old clothes and I don't feel good in most of them. I really haven't bought a new wardrobe in a really long time. Sure, I buy a new shirt, a pair of pants, here and there. But, I was going through stuff and a lot of my stuff is really old. We're talkin middle school here, folks.

Okay, the topic of choice for this break:

Feeling old.

I feel old today. I've never felt any different on my birthday, but today, I feel different. I looked in the mirror this morning and I just felt tired and old. Then, my grandma called and told me I was almost 30. Yikes. I don't have a problem with getting old, though. That's the thing. I want to be one of those women that "ages gracefully." I want to enjoy getting old and I always want to enjoy it.

....to be continued.

Time for dinner! And, moving!

Clothes.

So, that wasn't too bad. Mostly, I don't like packing because at the beginning it feels so overwhelming. I never know where to start. But, once I start, it's pretty okay. I pulled off all of the posters on my wall and it didn't look like my room anymore, so then packing was easy. It was actually kinda fun. So, now I have one box just about full and my desk is empty, along with my walls--for the most part. Woohoo!

Okay, so first post:

Sleeping shirtless:

This was a post that I tried to write a couple days ago, but damn blogger erased it all when I went to publish it! The other night I was cold when I went to sleep because I had turned down my heat that day. I ended up sleeping in my fleece sweatshirt, but I woke up in the morning with the bright sunshine making me too hot in the fleece. So, I took it off. I was apprehensive about it at first, for some reason. I really have no clue why. It's not like anyone would come into my room. I'm alone. Plus, I sleep without my shirt on at home, sometimes, and my mom could easily come in and see me. So, my anxiety was ridiculous. Anyway, it was incredible! I ended up sleeping shirtless the next night too. Just me and my skin. Free from the confines of a tee-shirt, and relishing the elements--by elements, I mean my deliciously red jersey knit sheets.

So, this brings me to my [usual] cultural ramble. Why is it unacceptable/inappropriate for women to go shirtless (I mean legally, men. I know that you all would jokingly say that you wouldn't mind. However, the law feels otherwise), but allowed for men? If it's the sex thing, I have a feeling that I find an attractive man's chest just as attractive as another person may find an attractive woman's chest. Therefore, I think this is just another way to make women feel inferior in society. Let's let men tell us what we can and cannot wear ("she was asking to be raped") and then cry about the glass ceiling. People, it's all connected!

Anyway, this wasn't meant to be a tirade.

So, this one time, my dad and I went to a Cubs game in the middle of the summer. The heat index was 108 degrees! If you've never been to Wrigleyville, I will share: there is no shade! At least not for the good seats-which we had. It was ridiculously hot. All I could do to calm my sweatglands was lean forward on the seat-with as little skin as possible touching the hot, miserable plastic. I was wearing a cottony, light tanktop (thank god!), but it was still really hot. I kept stuffing napkins down my shirt to sweep up the little sweat puddles that were collecting in my skin. It was awful. Anyway, while all the women were panting, drinking cold beverages(which turned hot within seconds), and stuffing napkins down their shirts, the men just took off theirs. Now, I don't think that's very fair. Believe you me (ha ha...I always thought that was a ridiculous statement), if it was allowed, my shirt would have been off faster than a speeding bullet! Alas.

Okay, back to my point: if you haven't slept shirtless before, shame on you. It is, by far, one of the best feelings in the world. In fact, I would add it to the "good things" email in a second!

Here's to tonight. Shirtless.

Now, to pack.

The desk.

I hate packing.

Thus, I am scheduling in "blog breaks." At these "blog breaks," I will reward myself for placing materialistic objects in big cardboard boxes by allowing myself to write nonesensical and meaningless pithies of information that you all can read, in great anticipation, of course.

These are possible topics for the day:

-feeling old
-sweating
-bikes
-Paris
-Caitlin

(By the way, I reserve the right to alter, add to, or change the order and or inclusion/exclusion of topics on this list. Of course, if you would like me to write about something specific, I might be able to work in a few requests.)

Until next time,
LL

I just wrote a really long post and then it disappeared when I went to publish it.

I'm mad and I don't want to do this right now!

I'll be back later.

{I thought this post got deleted! So, now here it is. I sort of repeated this later. Sorry.}

I'm really tired. I wasn't tired today, until about an hour ago and now I am so exhausted I don't even know what to do with myself. It's been one of those periods of exhaustion where I get really bad headaches from just being tired.

Another sign of exhaustion: this morning I slept until 10:42! I went to bed around 1:30, I think, so that's a good 9 hours. I only woke up once. Another thing that I'm going to risk potentially telling the entire internet-connected world: I slept without a shirt. I woke up around 8 and was really hot. I was wearing a fleece sweatshirt and socks (normally I wear a tee-shirt and no socks) cause I had turned off my heat last night and it was pretty cold when I went to bed. Anyway, I got up and took off my fleece. Now, I am not telling you all this because I want any sort of porno attention (It was just shirtless people. I was asleep. Alone.). [Plus, I am sure that you have all done this at some point in your life. If you haven't you should.] Rather, I am saying this with the hopes of convincing you all to try this too! It was sooooo nice. For that, I wish I was a guy. Sometimes clothes are just so restricting and it feels so good to be without! Just the skin and the elements. (By "elements," I mean my jersey cotton sheets). But, really, there have been really hot days when I just wanted to take off my shirt really bad. To illustrate, once my dad and I went to a Cubs game and it was really, really hot. Heat index was 108 degrees and our seats were right in the sun. I was wearing a linen tank top and my jean shorts and my skin was stuck to the plastic seats and I was dripping sweat like I'd just run a marathon. All I could do to control my heat was to take napkins soaked in cold water and stuff them down my shirt (Bras, for those of you who don't wear them, are really unpleasant to sweat in). It was terrible. Anyway, my dad was really hot too. But, he just took off his shirt. Same as all the other 15,000 men in the stands. They were all shirtless, while the female half of the stands was sitting there miserable wiping sweat as it dripped down our shirts and collected in little pools. The horrible thing is, though, that even if we wanted to take off our shirts (which I most certainly did), we are not allowed to--socially, and legally. I don't think that's very fair. Why is it that a woman's body is supposed to be hidden?

Anyway, I don't remember the point of this post. I think it was just to tell you I was tired. I can do that: I'm tired. I slept about 3 hours on Friday night after being exhausted and really wanting to go to bed around 7. And then I did a lot all day yesterday and went to bed late and was cold and so I wore a fleece sweatshirt and then I was hot, so I took it off. And it was good.

The end.

I am so sad that I have to leave my kids next quarter. They are such incredible people and I love being with them. I had such a good week with them. They are always so excited to see me and they are just so excited about life. They make me want to do good in the world.

I can't help think about how long they will stay that way--happy and childlike. When will the world harden their hearts? When will they face the one-too-many setback? When will they face heartbreak? Which one will become the urban school statistic?

I want to be a teacher. Not forever, though. Teachers are some of the most incredible people on the earth, I think. A good teacher can make such a difference in a child's life, and I don't know what is better in the world than mapping a course of goodness for a child. My mom is going to be a teacher. She starts student teaching in a couple of weeks and once she finishes, she'll be certified to have her own classroom next fall. I am so proud of her. My mom is one of the most incredible people I know. About 5 years ago, she didn't even have a college education and now she is getting her Masters degree. Anyway, I know that she will be a wonderful teacher. She is so good with kids. Mostly, she is good with them because she treats them like people, just like everyone else.

One of my second graders, Bobbi, is always getting in trouble. She is so bright, but she just gets herself into bad situations and I can sense that she is starting to be bitter towards school. She came into the 8th grade class yesterday because she walks home with her cousin Yatasha who is in my 8th grade class. She was holding a chapter book, so I started talking to her about it. She was so proud of herself. It made me feel so much goodness for her. There is nothing more special than feeling proud of oneself. I think that we do not encourage that enough--as a society--yet, I also think that we do not teach people to be accountable for their actions. Thus, some people are never proud of themselves when they should be, and others are proud of themselves when they shouldn't. Anyway, so today, I was decorating one of the boards in the hallway so that Ms. Janovec could put up some of the kid's work and the kids were coming back from art. They were all so happy to see me! They call me "Rachel," and each one has to say hi to me when I arrive and bye to me when I leave. So, one by one, they walk in and say "Hi Rachel," "Hi Rachel." It is so precious. So, Bobbi walked by, andI started talking to her about her book again, asking if she read it last night. To see her eyes light up when I asked her was just so incredible. Truly.

To be a child again...to be experiencing things in the world for the first time...it's just incredible. I want to approach life that way and when I am a teacher and a mother, I will encourage that in my kids too.

I don't know why I eat so much. I really don't need it and each time I eat too much, I feel sick, yet it doesn't stop me the next time. I exercise more than half the people in the world (well, I just made that up, I don't know if that's really true), yet, no one would ever know it, because I don't know how to stop eating. It makes me so mad! Why can some people stop after one bite, and I need 100. It's not even like I'm unconsciously eating 99 extra bites. With every extra bite, I am yelling at myself to stop, but something/someone inside just isn't listening.

Each day I wake up and say that I can be "good" today, but that never works. "There's always tomorrow," I tell myself.

I'm trying to have a "healthy" relationship with food, but I just don't know how. I see all these people who do it and I want to be them, but I am not them. I am me.

The hardest thing about it, is that I know what the healthy choices are, I just don't make them. That's what is so painful. To watch me make the wrong choices, when I know the right ones like the back of my hand.

I'm starting to get really worried about being in warm weather. I don't want anyone to see me, really. I read someone's blog the other day about physical attraction. She was saying something along the lines of she hates that she cares about her body. I hate that too. I feel like if I could just let go of my caring about it, then I'd be so much healthier and it would all just fall into place. I just haven't figured it out, yet. I definitely feel like I'm getting better each year, though--body image-wise. I've never looked worse, yet I feel better about myself. That is definitely a start. But, we'll see if I feel this way when I have to put on shorts or a swim suit. I cringe at the thought.

I was looking at pictures of myself this summer from 7th grade. I used to think that I was so gross, and I remember how awful that felt. But, the sad thing is, that I was looking at these pictures and realized that there was nothing "wrong" with me. I don't want to live my life, now, not doing things because I don't feel good--
physically--only to get older and realize that there was never anything wrong with me. My mom tells me that she looks at pictures of herself in high school and college and regrets how much she didn't do because she was so self-conscious. Yet, she was such a beautiful person. I don't want to feel that regret and have to tell my teenage daughter what I didn't do when I was younger for these same sad reasons.

I guess, really, what it comes down to is caring about what other people think of me. The post that I was reading also said something along the lines of her caring about what guys look like, so why shouldn't they care about what she looks like. I feel the same way. Often, I think that if I didn't eat so much, then someone would want to be in a relationship with me. I don't really want to be with anyone right now, I don't think. I really enjoy my independence, but it is so nice to have someone who cares about you and who supports you in a more intimate way. But, really, I don't need that right now. I have way too much stuff to sort out on my own.

Like why I eat so much.

I was inspired by economics, again, today. It makes me feel worthwhile when I have a moment to remember why I'm doing this economics thing. It's just so frustrating to be so bad at it, now. Sometimes I think that I'm just going to be bad at everything that I do, but then I realize that things work out and my life is going to be what I make of it. Not doing well in college does not change the difference that I can make in the world.

Anyway, I went to a talk tonight and this author (who wrote an econ book that I loved) was saying how he was actually interested in public policy issues--he has his MPA from Princeton and his PhD from the Harris School--and he just sort of fell into economics because he say that economics is what drives policy. That's what I've always thought too. He also said that he is not good at the math of economics, but he always got the intuition. That is also how I feel. I know how/why things happen, I just don't know how to do the regression which explains it. He inspired me. There is so much that I want to do. I am very interested in being a molding force in the world, but I know that I have to understand economics in order to affect true and lasting change.

I sort of know that I can make change if I set my mind to it. My fear, however, is that I will back off when things get hard and I will always look back on my life seeing what I could have done, but didn't. I realize that making true change and being an impacting person can mean so many different things. For example, I could be an incredible mother and wife, and not work outside of the home, and I could still be making change by raising productive, insightful and intelligent children. But, I don't see myself there. Starting a family is something that I am so excited about doing some day, but there is so much that I want to do before that. And, I don't ever want to look back and say that if I could have done it differently, I would.

I will do something big. Something for the grander social justice of the world. I just don't know what it's going to be. I think that I put a lot of pressure on myself in this regard, but only because I know that it is possible.

"Words don't have feet but they can squash you like a bug."

Confidence and self-esteem are interesting topics. If no one has either, then why doesn't anyone have them? To me, it seems like people don't have confidence and self-esteem because they feel like everyone else is super confident and self-assured, but what it comes down to is that few of us actually are. I think the problem is that people are too embarrassed to talk about what bothers them or what "problems" they have because they think that no one has those issues. But, really, we all have them! Everyone is messed up, people. However, I truly believe the root of our messed-up-ness is that we don't realize that we are not the only messed-up people. And that's because no one talks about personal feelings with other people. It's a vicious cycle, people. But it is one that can definitely be broken. We all have such superficial relationships with people because we're too scared to show that we are not perfect, yet if we displayed our imperfections, we would see that everyone had them and we wouldn't feel bad about it--it would be natural and wouldn't be such a problem.

I can't tell you how many times I've thought that I was completely messed-up only to talk to someone that I hadn't shared these things with for them to say that they feel the same way. It's so comforting to hear that. So, share, people! Don't be afraid to lack perfection. It's pretending to be perfect that is destroying our confidence and self-worth because it is such an impossible standard to live up to.