More Than a Mood

It's been a while now that I've really only been experiencing two moods - stressed and happy. Even the stress - most of it is Eustress. After all, in the last week, I've gone on a fancy and professional-like trip to Kansas City, ate dinner with a bunch of legitimate travel journalists, pulled off my first interview, helped organize and serve in two service projects (one of them was basically my baby), held a relatively good event here at South, helped mediate roommate conflicts, called 911 and dealt with that whole scene, and run around like one of the Local-Food-For-Local-People vegetables getting recommendations and advising appointments.

Mostly, I just feel happy - eager and full of bright energy, almost as if I can see it emanating from my skin. At a party on Friday, I felt so at ease, talking to everyone - switching easily from English to Spanish to German and even to bits of Norwegian and Italian and not feeling any shame or nerves, somehow. (And no, I didn't have a drink. ;))

The tiniest things are bringing me to my knees with their beauty. I mean - even a leaf, a few pine needles against the sky - and half the time not even reverting to viewing them as miniatures. Everything's lovely, everything...

And I feel just so grateful and content, lucky that I have sharp eyes and good ears and soft skin and strong legs to stand on. I feel confident, powerful. There's a certain cockiness in my voice that I haven't heard there since high school. And yet other times I feel polite, sweet, and appropriate - without feeling that I'm playing a role.

I'm scared about study abroad, of course, but it's the kind of fear that sends goosebumps down my arms and puts a slow, wicked sort of grin on my face. After all, if I can't do it, who can?

I need new clothes. I'm sick of wearing the same shirts again and again, I'm sick of all the ones from high school. I need new shoes. I've got to compromise for the sake of my feet, but maybe some black tennis shoes at least. And some non-tennis shoes that I can properly walk in. In a dark and neutral colour. No more white. That won't fly, not in Spain.

We're breaking through a little bit in Catalan, starting to feel the way it shifts from Spanish, like Italian... starting to get a handle on it... and in Journalism too, we're finally doing content, I'm finally not only paying attention but riveted. They've exhausted their thesaurus' entry on Plagiarism at last and are talking about different ways to communicate - not only written, but also visual - graphs, charts, list.... what's interesting, what communicates... because that's the point!

And I'm understanding, that it's all about the stories, the stories! And the feelings! And coincidentally I can do that. I can tell stories. Just have to push myself and not hide behind what's easiest. Academia is interesting and I'm good at that, but maybe too good. I can push myself but only though, there, not out and into anything, no surprises, nothing new... And my affair with books, with dust, with the darkest corners of the library - it's loosening it's control on me, somehow. I haven't forgotten it's attraction, but...

There's the whole world to see. It's every colour every smell every sound and it's real and I want to be out there in it. No more dark and gothic Elindomiel, no more spritely and cute Ellie or Mira-chan, either. I've no excuse whatsoever for sorrow, and I don't wish to be cartoonised. I'll be Miranda, all warm flesh tones, running as fast as I can and laughing too, experiencing the wonders of the world with every sense, and nevermind the ones who tell me this part or that is uninteresting or ugly, what do they know? Miniaturize, shoot up the contrast or the saturation in your minds eye, and soon you no longer need to, I think, to see what's wonderful in every place at every time. If they insist, I'll even stop and photograph it, write about it, so that someone else can feel it too, maybe, that life isn't a ticking clock but a drum beat.