Nervous to be back

I apologize to everyone who I have been with since I got back that has asked about Argentina. I don't know what to tell you. Everyone wants to know my favorite part, the adventures I had, what my internship was like, and so on. And I have nothing to say still. I knew I wouldn't and I do not.

Here is the truth. I was just living there for three months. I didn't have huge adventures or do anything crazy. I didn't get a whole lot from my internship. I didn't have a favorite part. I enjoyed myself and lived like someone else for a summer. How do I explain this, without making it boring and miserable and brief? Because my description cannot be brief. People expect five minute stories about the things I did, I need to wow them with my South American journeys, I need to make this epic for them.

Here's my plan: brainstorm two good stories to tell. Sea Salt and the action at La Boca.

And say this: It was an experience I needed. I found my passion for planet earth, was able to live in someone else's shoes, and speak Spanish the whole time. I don't have concrete lessons to give you, it will have to suffice to say that I grew.

On my internship: I didn't do anything journalistic at all. I did some editing and studied the art of event highlights videos. More importantly, at Greenpeace I learned that for all of the problems there are we can actually do something. Before this I had always felt the worlds problems were beyond fixing, people just don't care enough. But now I see that they can care, if they know, and then we can do something. I feel like I'm being very idealistic sometimes when I talk like that, so I still have that hopeless part of me apparently. Yet I have the desire to make changes now. I am starting to see things differently I think.

Is that sufficient?
Too vague.
Perfect.

Whispering harms vocal chords more than yelling

My heart beats so hard it shakes my whole body when I lay on my stomach. I wonder why it beats so strongly, obviously for me, but now I just feel like I'm being full of myself.

I can't tell if I'm tired. I think I'm just tired of thinking about the task of writing the paper which is due in the coming days. Perhaps it would be a bit easier if I didn't think about it so much. My 7th grade english teacher said that even though you aren't consciously thinking of something it is still back there somewhere "incubating". I'm going to allow this paper to incubate the rest of tonight. I had it on the front burners all day so far. That prompted a page of worthless crap, a headache, and a feeling of worthlessness. Needless to say, one of my better days?

Here are some things I was writing earlier, that I enjoyed:

I miss old friends. What would happen if I tried to connect to them? Could I? Am I interesting enough to make it worth their time? Probably. I just don't know in what way.

To Español:
I love you. Let me hold you. Let's be alone together. We can make out all day.

"I whispered sweet nothings into sweet nothings."
-Paul Rolfe