The Completely (un)True Story of How I Spent My Year Abroad
Author's Note
This is my warning to you. If you do not appreciate sarcasm, this will be a harrowing and at times confounding read. I am willing to work with someone who wants to learn the finer point of my brand of blunt sarcasm, but you must be willing to learn. This is the first of many lessons this book will contain, and though I am not completely sure, it may be the only one stated so plainly. The rest will be hidden in the cracks and corners of this book, and it will be up to you to find them. That said, everything written here is absolutely completely 100% true.* So live vicariously through my past self, shake your head at my youthful stupidity, or just search frantically for the errors that ensue when one undertakes NaNoWriMo on a public platform.
On the structure of this book: It is a story partially told in diary-entry form, and partially in twitter length thought fragments, and partially in emails to people back home, people also abroad, and customer service inquiries about shipping prices to not-the-US. It is not completely chronological, and if it is unclear when the events described took place, please, please let me know and I'll make it more clear.
*To those still learning: this is sarcasm
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Diary 9.10.13
October 29, 2013
the living room couch
I think I have come to the complete realisation that regarding most things, I have always lived my life as if I were a little late to the party. With my parents, this sometimes manifested itself literally, and by now it's practically second nature to apologise for my lateness while stepping over a threshold. For example, it feels a little late to start a journal or diary of my year abroad that is just for myself, when I've already been gone for practically 2 months.
Diary 1.11.13
November 1, 2014
Under the covers trying not to wake my sister
There is a boy. I am totally completely gone. Which is totally completely terrifying. The prospect of a year in love with someone who doesn't reciprocate is bad enough, but survivable. Hell I went 3 years in unreciprocated crush mode. The thought of a year in love with someone who reciprocates and then has to be left is a thousand times worse.