RIP Antonio Bifulco 4.21.1932 to 2.26.1996

15 years is a long time. 15 years ago, I was 7 years old and in second grade, getting ready to make my First Holy Communion. My sister was 3, almost 4 and in pre-school. We had moved to California a year and a half before and were still settling in.

15 years is also the amount of time that has passed since my grandfather, Antonio Bifulco, died from complications of lung cancer. I remember that morning like it was yesterday and the hurt still cuts just as deep, if not more now because of the time that has passed. They say that time heals all wounds. Unfortunately, time also allowed me to learn more about my grandfather’s illness and I’ve been witness to the havoc that cancer wreaks on families every day. I have learned the cause of his disease, smoking, and wish like hell that he had grown up in a world that knew the dangers of it. Instead, he grew up in Italy, during the time of war-torn, Mussolini-ruled Italy, having been born in San Giuseppe Vesuviano in 1932. If there was ever a wish in my heart so desperately for a time-machine, it is now.

It was an early, cold February morning. I was up and getting ready for school, like the rest of my family, getting ready for the day. Mom and Dad in their room showering, hair-drying, tie-tying. Little sister’s eyes still full of sleep, her adorable little face probably non-too happy to be awake so early, especially since it was still dark out. Besides she was never really a morning person when she was younger. I thought I had heard the phone ringing, but the details on that are fuzzy. What followed isn’t. I knew something was wrong when I heard my aunt’s voice on the machine downstairs. My parents couldn’t find the phone, or something. The only thing I clearly remember is my dad opening his door looking and me and it hitting me. I raced at him and he scooped me up as I sobbed “I knew it! I knew it!” My grandfather had died. My Popi Tony. The man who had come to America alone at the age of 26 to make a new life for himself. The man who had raised my father and aunt, working as a bricklayer and pizza parlor owner. The man who improved his English skills by helping his children with their homework. He was gone. Forever.

I had known it was coming. My dad had warned my sister and I at Christmas. That time was a happy time. I came home from school one day, probably the last day of school before winter break, to my Nani, Popi and Aunt Maria sitting on the couch and talking with my parents like they had been there for ages. I was SO excited. I had missed them so much since we had moved to California. But my grandfather was very thin and very weak. I think I knew in the back of my mind that something was very wrong, but I was only 7 and really didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. I have a vague memory of my dad leaving in September that year to go on a trip with his dad. I found out later that they had traveled to Italy and Brazil so that my grandfather could say goodbye to his family. I can’t even begin to imagine who painful that must have been for my dad and the rest of my family. My grandfather was the one who traveled back to Italy as often as he could and has just as many memories with our family there as he does here.

There’s a picture that I have, unfortunately not in my possession (it’s in my room at my parents’ house) of my grandfather that last Christmas Eve. It’s by no means a flattering picture, but it’s one I stare at all the time when I have it near me. He’s eating his spaghetti and is looking at the camera as if he was caught off-guard by the person taking the picture. His sweater is brown, over a white checkered collared shirt and both seem too big for him. His forehead is scrunched and what was left of his eyebrows are raised and his eyes, underneath his glasses, are wide. There’s barely a wisp of white hair left on his head that is spotted with liver spots, probably because of the cancer treatments he had been going through. He’s surprised. That image is seared into my memory. I’m sure we have happier looking pictures from that Christmas. I know we do. But that one is one that I kept. My dad buzzed his head over the summer last year and had lost some weight and I got the shock of my life when I Skyped with him and my mom. I was at our family’s house in Italy and hadn’t seen them in person since May. I know he did it because my dad is practical and figured that the shorter he cut his hair, the longer he could wait between cuts (he’s frugal and I love him for it). But he scared the crap out of me. He looked too much like his father in that picture. I mean, I know he is healthy and not nearly as thin, but God, he looked too much like him.

I cried that night. I cried for the memory of my grandfather, the man that I wish I could have known more, the man who tried to teach me his native language when I was learning to talk, the man who watched me with my grandmother every week when my parents were at work. I was his first grandchild and he loved me. I loved him. I still do and I think about him every day. I wonder at my actions and what he would think of me today. I hope I’m making him proud. I really do.

Somehow and at some point, my family landed in New York at the end of February. There was still snow on the ground; a lot of it. I remember my Uncle Stephen, my mother's brother, took my sister and I out to the front lawn of my mom’s parents’s house, with whom we were staying because of all the commotion at my dad’s family’s house, and we made a snowman that was lying on its back. I don’t remember why, but I remember laughing. We made its legs by packing a bucket full of snow and placing it on him. Well, my uncle probably did. My sister was all bundled up with just her little, round like a cherub face and red from the cold, peeking out from her scarf and hat and snow suit. She was so sweet and didn’t understand really what was happening. I talk to her about it now and she has a few sharp memories of these days, but her biggest memory is the lack of one. She was so little when we moved that she never got to know him. I wish you had, baby girl. He was wonderful.

I remember going to the wake. There were so many people and so many flowers. To this day, I can not get a whiff of flowers without having a flashback to that day and that scene. I don’t talk about it much though. There were balloons saying “Loving Husband” and “Wonderful Father.” My grandmother was crying as people consoled her. And I remember this. I wanted to see him, one last time, so I walked straight up to the casket with my sister and stared down at my grandfather. I thought he looked funny. He was skinnier than I had remembered (even at Christmas, he still had a little belly) but it was gone. He had makeup on, from the funeral home mortician, and a suit. I had never seen him in a suit.

Then I did something that my mom told me later that kind of shocked her. I reached out and held his hand and touched his arm and his face. It seemed the right thing to do, but he was cold. The Popi Tony I remember was always warm and smiling and laughing, eyes alive with merriment. Sitting at his kitchen table (which is still in my grandmother’s kitchen; I can’t bring myself to sit at the head of the table where he would always sit) with pants belted around his middle with a plain white undershirt on and slippers. It seemed to be his uniform. Occasionally he’d throw a cardigan on, usually navy blue or green it seemed.

My sister and I didn’t go to the funeral. We were dropped off at my mom’s sister’s place to play with our cousins. Rebecca and Rachel didn’t quite understand what was going on or why were sad. My aunt said something about our grandfather passing and that scared my cousin’s into thinking it was our shared grandfather (who is still alive and kicking, if I might say so). Somehow and at some point, we flew back to California to try and resume our normal lives. I was strange for a while. I didn’t feel like socializing at school and was always looking in the clouds for a sign of him. At night, if I had done something “bad” during the day, I would lie flat on my back with my blanket tucked around me for fear of him coming down from Heaven and smacking my bottom. I had heard stories of my dad getting the belt and I was terrified. I laugh at it now, but it was a real fear for me.

I also wondered, and still do, if we had stayed in New York, would he have lived longer? We were his family. My aunt didn’t marry until after he passed, so when my family moved to California, it was just the three of them. They say you can die of a broken heart. I know I shouldn’t think like this, but I wonder if he sort of gave up fighting, because we were so far away now. I hope he didn’t. Again, time machines would really come in handy for me sometimes.

I miss him. I miss him so much. I think about him every day and wonder what he would think of our lives. Me, on my own up here, working in San Francisco and having spent a summer in his home country. My sister at school in North Carolina, finding herself in the crazy world of college. My aunt married and raising her son in Brooklyn and my grandmother, still living in the house they shared on Long Island. I wish I could talk to him again, see him again. I’ve nearly forgotten what he sounds like and definitely what he smells like. Next time I’m home, I’m making copies of home videos so I can have them for myself.

RIP Antonio Bifulco April 21, 1932 to February 26, 1996. Ti amo e mi manchivi molto.

Books, Books, Books

     Over the last month, I have been able to do something again which I really haven’t had time for over the last four years (even if I did sneak it in, therefore sacrificing study time): read for pleasure. My hour long train ride to and from San Fran daily has given me the time to actually read again. And oh boy am I ever. I’ve read about 4 books over the last 4 weeks. Some heavy, some lighthearted. I went a little crazy at the sale bin at Borders.

Now I’m not going to try to fool myself into thinking I can pose as a book reviewer. I promise you that. But I will be reflecting on what I read and writing about them here. I started this out as one long post but I realized I wouldn’t be able to without producing a massively long and drawn out post. SO, my new plan is that for every book I read, I will write on post about after. I’ll do my best to do this shortly after, or else I’ll have to go back and read that book again. And again. Aaand again.

     Here’s a quick one on the first book I read. And it’s quick because this book was a very quick read, but probably the most fun.

     The first book I read was a quick read, mainly because it was written in a way that those of my generation can’t seem to get enough of. The name: Twitterature. Yes, you read that correctly. This book is in short, amazing. It is a collection of all the great works of literature, minimized to 40 tweets or less, and each tweet has to be 140 characters or less. So that means I read all the greats in about 5 minutes each. It’s the most entertaining way of figuring out if you want to dive into the unabridged version, which I may very well do, once I’m done reading the 10 other books I bought on the first round. Follow the link here and read about it. http://www.twitterature.us/us/index.htm.  It was put together by two freshmen at the University of Chicago. Can you imagine being 19 years old and already having a book published through Penguin Books? Nice!

Instant Time Travel Needs to Happen..NOW

     I have a large family, that much is evident if you've been keeping up with these posts. And it's a very wide spread family. Spread across the States and across the world. Instant time travel would make life a lot easier. My family here has been so so amazing, it's going to stink tomorrow morning when I leave. They love us unconditionally even though we see them only once every few years. Every house I have been in has had mine or my sister's or my family's picture on display (one that we sent them at some point in time). My Zia Eleanor has a shelf in her sitting room with just pictures of my family. One is a shot that I didn't even know about. It's a different version of a picture hanging in my house. It was taken when I was around 5, nearly 6 years old because my sister was old enough to not look like a baby anymore. It's my whole family. Mom, dad, aunt, grandma, grandpa, sister and me. The one hanging in my house is a serious looking one with all of us displaying closed mouth smiles. The one in my zia's house has us all displaying huge grins. There's little me, clinging to my grandpa's arm, both of us with identical big grins. There is no doubt that I am my father's daughter and my grandfather's granddaughter. I look like him, with my mom's features as well. Being here has allowed me to hear so many stories about my grandpa, most of them involving how much he would eat when he was here (my family thinks I don't eat enough...fact is I just can't eat as much as my dad does haha). I'm not sure why we didn't keep the smiling picture for ourselves but I'm glad I saw it. I was beginning to forget what his smile looked like.
     Anyways, the fact of the matter is that I love this crazy family and it just stinks that they are so, so far away from me.  Since instant time travel is probably a few centuries off, I'm just going to have to either work a lot to be able to come here more often or find a job that pays very very nicely so I can still come here more often. Once every 4 years is just not going to cut it. I nearly cried last night when I had to say bye to my cousin Giusy and I will surely cry tonight when I say goodbye to Gianfranco and Antonella. I hate goodbyes. I know they're really only see you laters but when later is a few years off...it really hurts. Thank goodness for modern technology and more importantly, Facebook. It really has helped me keep in touch with my cousins here. And now that I have a better grasp on the language, it may seem like we're not even apart. Hopefully, I can come back soon. The problem is, the more I come here and the longer I stay, the more I miss them. It's a conundrum that will never be fixed. Oh well. So to all my family... I love you.

A fantastic 24 hours

Today has been my longest day here by far! Oh my gosh so much has happened in the last like 24 hours. Started out yesterday afternoon when Dana and I got dropped off at our hotel in Naples since her train left so damn early this morning. We checked in, put our stuff down and set out to explore. Got a taxi over to the Galleria (picture a mall in the shape of the Duomo....high glass dome included). Wandered through there for a bit then down one of the main streets with all the shops. Seems like everyone in Naples was on this street. Just people everywhere. The sales are coming to an end here in Italy and the stores were in chaos. We went into one store and an entire wall was blank..absolute madness.
Once we were tired of walking around (we really didn't want to venture far out of the area that we knew...it is Naples) we found a restaurant to sit and have a nice dinner at. We sat and talked for around an hour and a half, just the two of us. It was so nice. I love my family but I did want some alone time with my best friend. Haven't seen her in a year after all. Also, we got a bit tipsy. Shared a liter of prosecco and we finished it to the last drop. Delicious. Also I had her finally try limoncello. I don't think she liked it so much. Got a taxi back to the hotel and finally crashed. Set my alarm on my phone purposefully for 6:15 am because her train was at 6:50 am.
And before I knew it Dana was waking me up at 6:42 am. Luckily she didn't need to put anything away besides pj's and we both made a mad dash for the station which was (thank god) luckily just across the street. Made her train on time and got a hug goodbye in. But oof that was really close. Scared the crap out of both of us that she would miss her train which would mean she might miss her flight. BUT all is good. She is now on a plane across the Atlantic back to Toronto and I am back in San Giuseppe...and well fed once again.
Gianfranco picked me up from the hotel at 9 and went back to their house to get ready for church. Between this Sunday and last Sunday, I've observed that Sunday after church is family shopping time. The whole family will go out and go clothes shopping and talk with friends. The whole town is out on Sundays, totally unlike Florence, which was quite dead on Sundays. Shops were closed and everyone was sleeping in. It was fun. Then as soon as we got back to the house I had to run next door for a marathon meal with my dad's cousin Angelo's family. Angelo is the dad of my cousin Michele, who took Dana and I to Sorrento on Thursday. The families are all finally beginning to make sense and I'm slowly remembering who the heck everyone is. I have a HUGE family here.
The last time I was here I made a family tree of nearly the entire family, or as much as my dad and all his cousins that I talked to could remember. It was a really fun lunch. Just Angelo's family at first then Susy and her brother, his girlfriend and their mom came over and then it was a LOT of fast paced Italian and more food going on the table (dessert of course) and me feeling a liiiittle lost and tired. But it was also a family that I really didn't know prior to this trip so it was something that was wonderful.
So now I am back in my parent's place, resting up. Michele invited me out again with his friends to go down to Salerno but first I am going to Skype with my parents. Haven't done that in a few days and my mom even sent me a FB message asking for some sort of contact =). More cousins got in today (they were at the beach on vacation) and tomorrow a cousin from Brazil arrives that I've never met so that should be fun. I think she speaks some Italian other than her native Portuguese soooo it shall be interesting. Gotta love my international family <3 =).

more from San Giuseppe

When I was up north and would tell people that my family is from the Naples area, they would say "oh yeah you look like it." I never really understood what it meant to look like you were from a certain region of a country. Then I went to church with Gianfranco and Anna on Sunday morning and looked around and went "oh now I get it." It's the eyes. I have very very distinctive Southern Italian looking eyes. It's not the color but the shape and area around the eyes. I look like I could live here. And I look enough like my cousin Anna that one person that saw us out after church asked Gianfranco if I was his wife. hahaha. That was amusing.
Sunday was wonderful. After church and errands, we headed back to the house. As soon as we got there, my Zia Eleanor saw me and beckoned me over to her place. Of course, like always, she immediately put food in front of me. I swear, it's like they think everyone is constantly hungry. But I was since I hadn't eaten since the pizza the night before. So I sat and chatted as best as I could with her. Then another nephew, Santino, came over and then had me go with him to say hello to his family. It was nice to see them and a little funny since his daughters both have a Facebook and we've been keeping in touch that way. It's so much easier with Facebook.
After chatting with them I headed back to A & G's for the midday meal (I can't exactly call it lunch because it's such a huge meal..dinner isn't that big of a deal around here and it's super late). After a delicious meal of real pasta and a huge steak (yeah like I said..big meal) it was relaxing time. Anna doesn't do relaxing so we played around and then popped in a movie. Skyped with my parents and then went back to my place to change and get my computer because we figured out their wireless password. Francesco had invited me out with him and his friends so around 8 I went downstairs to his place (that's my favorite part about my family here…they all live in the same place).
When we finally got all of his friends together (we were in 3 separate cars because there were 12 of us..btw taking cars all the time is SO weird to me still) we finally headed out to the club. It was on the beach in Naples so it took a good 45 minutes to get out there. But it was so cool. The best clubs are the outdoor clubs. They're just so pretty and you never get too hot from dancing because the wind just blows right through. I had so so much fun with them. But I also noticed just how protective my family can be. The whole time Francesco made sure that he knew where I was and any time we were walking through the crowd, he made sure to have a hand either around my waist or on my shoulder. I don't know him very well and have only seen him a handful of times in my life but there's that familial bond. If he was in the states I would be just as protective of him. And everyone else. I wish they would come to the states. Angelo, Giusy's older brother, is the only one to ever come to visit and he did so with a bunch of friends.
We finally got back home around 3:30 and I passed out in Francesco's sister's bed because she's on vacation right now. He wouldn't let me go back to my house and sleep there by myself. But now Dana's here. Aaaand that's a story for a different post!

travel post #4: My Best Friends

     Ok I promise this is the last post in one day...I think. It’s about my best friends. Some I’ve known for years, one I’ve known for only a year. But I love all of them equally and care about them enormously. Samantha, Kristen, Heidi and Dana...you are my rocks. I love you all. And I just need to share how special you are to me.
    Sam, I’ve known you since birth. Our dads were in diapers together and grew up together and are still friends, even though they need our nudging once in a while to contact each other. I have a binder in my room with a photocopy of every letter I ever sent you from age 6 to 16. You sent it to me for my 16th birthday. I love it. Sometimes I’ll read through them and laugh hysterically at how ridiculous we were as adolescents. We’re even in a book! Remember that alphabet book that my parents (I think) had made for me when I was little? In it, you and I go on an alphabet adventure one rainy day in Bay Shore. I love it. And these last four years of college. We knew they would be tough but my god we didn’t know they would be this tough. I’ve leaned on you and you’ve leaned on me and I know now that no matter the distance, our friendship is one for the ages. I love you and I know you know that, because I tell you all the time. I can NOT wait for our adventures when I get back in August.
     Kristen, we started out rough haha. But over the years you’ve become like family and one of my closest friends. I can count on you to tell me when I’m being an idiot (which is quite often....sadly) and to tell it to me straight. You can always come to me and tell me about your adventures you don’t really tell anyone else. I love that about us. I can literally say anything to you and we can just laugh about it. Our families are like one big family. They’ll always be like that. You’re stuck with me biotch. You were one of the first people I met out in California and have remained steadfastedly in my life since. Even when you leave for a summer in Bolivia (crazy) and I leave for the next summer to Italy, we’ve always got each other. And we can always catch up like no time has passed.
     Heidi, my favorite little squeakers redhead. I LOVE you. And oh the times we have had. And you, also are like family. I even chose your dad as my second godfather. I have to say I talk to him more than I do my first. I know we’re both crazy busy and we may not talk enough but I know that when we’re both home and have free time, we’ll find ourselves at Coffee Bean for hours on end =). Going to college together would have been amazing, but life had other plans. And that’s ok. You are another that I can tell anything. And you the same to me. Even if you think I talk too much about too many things. I will never forget my first memories of you, in fourth grade (yes this story) when you broke BOTH wrists and had bright purples casts on. That is forever ingrained in my memory and yes I am going to bring it up at your wedding. Along with the fact that until lately, you would spill SOMETHING everytime you were my house. Milk, water, ice cream, anything. And like you always do, you would laugh hysterically, til you couldn’t move and then clean it up and joke about it later with the rest of us. =)
    Dana, my newest best friend. We truly have become BEST friends, against the most odds. Together for one summer, working on an insanely complicated event then pulled apart because well, you’re Canadian and live clear cross and up one country =). Thank goodness for MSN and facebook. I love you. You also know that because I tell you all the time. I know this has been quite the year for you, but everything will work out and who knows you and I could be traveling the world together someday. We talk EVERY day. I love it. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this summer with a 6 hour time difference. It’s bad enough when I’m 3 hours behind. Sheesh SIX hours ahead? ooh boy. And our friendship is just starting. But it’s one that will last. I can feel it. Here’s to years of friendships, world traveling trips and hanging out where ever we may be. And to endless nights chatting away.
     My four best friends. I have a lot of friends, but you four are the closest to my heart. You will ALL be in my wedding and a grand old time will be had. And yes, I know, that so-called wedding is oh maybe 10 years off with a groom who still has no face =). But don’t all of ours? My point is, I would not be who I am today without all of you. And the rest of my fabulous friends.

travel post #3: Long Island, I Love You

     Ok so I wanted to keep each of these posts focused on a single topic, which is why there’s so many of them. I need to get all these thoughts down on paper before I lose them. I wanted to talk about Long Island. Sure it’s overshadowed by the greatest city on earth (well in some people’s opinions) but it has its charms and quirks. I love it. Maybe it’s because I was born there and desperately wanted to move back for so long (junior high sucked. Seriously), but I just love it. I love how it looks, how it sounds, and even how it smells (sometimes). The houses make me smile. They all look similar but have their own quirks. It’s mostly the brick houses, with the perfect red brick like my dad’s parents house or the big wooden shingled houses like my mom’s parents (they don’t live there anymore and I think it would pain me not to run into that house if I stopped by...it was my first home). They just look so cozy and homey.
     I still want to move back and with graduation fast approaching (December will be here before you know it folks) and with me not having strings attached anywhere, I can go ANYWHERE. Anywhere there’s a winery who wants me. Which means I have a lot of options. When I told Samantha this, immediately she said “OMG when you get back in August, we’re going out East!” Out East. That also makes me smile. Down to the shore. Robert Moses, Jones Beach, Fire Island. All those names make me so happy. I have yet to go to Fire Island, but oh be warned in August...I will go. So L.I. is now added to my list of relocation possibilities (or not): stay in Nor Cal, go to Oregon, Toronto (Canada....that would make a certain favorite Canadian of mine extremely happy) and now Long Island. Who knows.
     Even driving into Brooklyn made me happy. It’s not my favorite of the five buroughs but it has it’s charm. Again, the red brick and the white painted wrought iron fences with the flags hanging out and the humidity of summer hanging in the air, just tempting you. I saw a commercial that showed a little girl running around in her bathing suit at dusk, catching fireflies in a jar and watching them with a look of pure wonder on her face. I used to be that little girl. There are no flreflies out in California. At least, none that I’ve seen. That really makes me want to go back. For an extended period of time. I’m not saying I would move there permanently, but I would like to live there again. I also want to live all over the world soooo who knows how that’ll go.
     So, an ode to Long Island. I love you. For all that you are. You make me happy. You make a little sad. Overall you remind me of where I came from and what I’ve accomplished and done with my life so far. I thank you for that. I can look back on when I’ve visited and remember exactly where I was in my life at that time. Like a snapshot. Maybe someday you’ll become a movie.

Nostalgia in the strangest places

     I should be writing a 15 page paper that is due 24 hours from now. I'm halfway done, I promise. But I hit a wall. Well I hit a wall before I left for work 6 hours ago and now I'm just too damn tired to think about the global affects of the Olympics (sounds fun, huh? no seriously it is). So I'll write on here instead, about nostalgia and how it can hit you at the most random times and about things you never stopped to think about before. I'm talking about my place of work...it's an odd thing for me to be nostalgic about if you've ever heard me complain about work (and I have. ask my mother.)
     I started at ______ in October 2007 after hosting and serving at a different restaurant. I had applied to ____ when I was 15 but my horrible lack of math skills kept me from getting the hosting job (silly I know and kind of pathetic...I laugh about it now). So instead I concentrated on being a teenager and getting through my junior year of high school, worked at a boutique and then got into the restaurant world by way of a different restaurant who was so desperate for hosts that they looked at me and said "when can you start?" I was there from Jan 07 to Sept 07 when my boss at restaurant #1 moved over to ______ and said "if you're not at _____ in a month i'm coming back here and physically bringing you over!" I didn't need that because without her, I really didn't want to be at restaurant #1. Plus I knew the owner at _____ and really wanted to work there.
      When I first started at ______ I LOVED it. l-o-v-e. I was working with a family friend and the money was better and the customers weren't snooty. plus I didn't have to wear head-to-toe black (major hint at what ____ is). I had fun, my coworkers were nice, if not eccentric. Made a few friends there and got to see others more than I had in a while. Plus, a lot of people I knew came in all the time so it was fun to see friends at my work place. Unfortunately, we don't live in a perfect world aaaaand my favorite manager (I've told him this, he knows it) moved on to a different store and things kind of went downhill, slightly from there. But it was ok because I was moving away for school and would be transferring to a different location anyways.
       I've now been at location #2 of _____ since last January, over a year now. And boy has it had its bumps and bruises. The thing I dislike MOST about restaurants is how damn cliquey they can get (staff, not customers). It's like being in high school all over again. I didn't like high school when I WAS in high school. I just never got to know my coworkers here and for that reason have felt a liiiittle bit "on the outside looking in". Ok I feel like that most of the time, but I do have some friends there who agree with me that most of our coworkers are, well, eccentric.
      So you're probably asking yourself at this point "what is she so nostalgic about?! sounds like she doesn't like it." Well I'm only at ____ for a few more shifts (2 to be exact unless I pick up another) before I leave. I'm not quitting but I'm not sure if I'll go back once I return to school in September. And thinking that these last few shifts are the last ever at ____ makes me a little sad. I've worked with this company for 2 and a half years, and lived off of it for most of that time. Sure I have thought about quitting a ton of times, but I'm not a quitter. Well unless there's something better lined up for me. Which is what I plan to do. But these last few nights have just got me thinking about when I first started. Also, the fact that we have a few new people gets me thinking about that too. Ooh if only I knew what I was getting myself into.
      SO _____ thank you for the good times you've given me, the lessons you've taught me and the money you've helped me earn. If we meet again in the fall, so be it. If not, I will always know where to get the most delicious and affordable steaks, if my cravings call for it. Weird how nostalgia works, huh?

Student Visas

      For my summer abroad, I am required to obtain a student visa. I know we are dealing with national security but this has been the most complicated and frustrating process I have ever gone through. I am making another attempt at getting all of my paperwork in today, and I really hope that I have it all this time. The frustrating thing is that different consulates and websites say different things. I have the list for the LA consulate of what they require. And then I go to the SF consulate to make sure I have everything and there are a few things extra from the LA list that they require. I thought this was a UNIVERSAL thing! If one Italian consulate requires a certain piece of paperwork, they should ALL require it. So I think that I have everything I possibly could. And am going to make the drive into SF once again, this time in the rain, because I have less than 7 weeks until my departure and well I need that visa on my passport before I leave California. It's essential. And nerve-racking. So a piece of advice to students traveling abroad for study...get help. Go through your school. If you do go through a private program, ask as many questions as possible. I learned my lesson the hard way (like I usually do). If my dad reads this, he'll probably laugh at me and then call me and tell me "I told you so." Yes, Dad, you are right.
        Oh and the rain. It has been raining on and off for a whole WEEK. I don't understand it. I know the whole saying "April showers bring May flowers" but my goodness. It's POURING. And my cousin is getting married in an outdoor wedding at the end of the month. I'm pretty sure that this whole week is putting her on edge. It's going to be beautiful no matter what but it'd be nice if it was clear skies.
       Ok well that's my rant right now. Here's to one more week of school and one more week closer to summer and my wonderful adventures.

Driving Home

I drove home today to Southern California from school. It was a quick 5 hour drive (catch the sarcasm?). But there was little to no traffic and for the first time I actually could appreciate the beauty of the California 101. Everyone says that the I-5 is much faster and more direct but it's such an ugly ride. I know that the scenery should not matter when I should be keeping my eyes on the road, but oh my gosh, the scenery on the 101 is so beautiful right now! Everywhere I looked, there were lush green hillsides and fields stretching to the mountains full of green produce. Then when I hit the San Luis area, I hit the ocean and the way that the sun gleamed off the ocean was dazzling (yes, I said dazzling). I don't know what it is, but I just was so relaxed the whole way home. Maybe it's because I AM relaxed. I haven't felt this relaxed and at peace since before Christmas. I think. But it's going to be fleeting. I know it. I have a loaded second half of the semester and then a quick pack up of my life and off to Europe. The next 9 weeks are going to FLY.
It's amazing to me how different the scenery is from north to south. Well, maybe it's the proximity to the coast and how the coast changes from rocky edges to sandy beaches. Big Sur is gorgeous. I've driven through once (not my choice..it's a long getting-lost story). But it's all cliffs. You have to LOVE hiking and rock climbing to truly appreciate the beauty. Once you hit San Luis Obispo, the coast is beautiful, smooth beaches with the tall mountains just across the freeway. That is why I love California. We have everything you could want as far as natural sceneries. We have high mountain peaks, sandy beaches, deserts and snow. Such a beautiful state. Ok well I'm rambling again. Off for now.