Italy.

Ciao, bella gente.
Italy. What comes to your mind when you think of Italy?
Pizza? Spaghetti? Lasagne? Fashion? Men? Wine?
I'll tell you what comes to my mind.
Beauty, Love, Gelato and Talking with your hands.
I love Italy. Really. With all my heart.
The one time I went to Italy, I was almost 12.
I was so excited. My family and I went to Rome. We lived in a convent.
Okay, now don't laugh. These nuns have this hotel type thing. They rent out rooms to tourists, etc. Anyway, I was in Rome and I was 11. I loved the place. I loved walking down the street and looking at these gorgeous people laugh, fight, talk. I  observed how these plump, rosy cheeked Italian women haggled with the men over fruit and exotic looking vegetables and delicious meats. Roma was beautiful. Enchanting.
Alas, when you're with family, especially if they're Indian, they don't do much. Sure, we went sight seeing, visited the Vatican, ate pizza, etc. But we didn't really sample la bellezza che è l'Italia. Thank God for Google Translate.
I've seen enough movies set in Italy. read books romanticizing the inviting place and its people. I mean, who didn't fall in love with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck zooming around on a Vespa? Or become envious watching Julia Roberts eat a whole lot of food and drink too much wine by herself in Eat, Pray and Love? Or  wished they had a villa like the one in Under the Tuscan Sun?
But what really made me want to go to Italy again was discovering the love the city of Verona holds while I watched Letters to Juliet.
I want to go to Italy. Learn to talk Italian and haggle with vendors and be dramatic by throwing my arms in the air.
I want to own a little cottage. Or stay at a vineyard. I want to become an apprentice in a little restaurant tucked away deep in the city of Roma.
I want to go to Naples and fear getting mugged while eating the best pizza in the world.
I want to sample Wine and walk around in the Italian countryside.
And I don't mind doing all this by myself. And I will. With my own money.
Yes, yes, this is all talk. I'm only 18.
But this is a promise to myself.
So, I'm going to start off by learning Italian.
Then I shall work to get the money for all this.
And then I'll spend a month in Italy. At least.
1 week in Milan.
1 week in Verona.
1 week in Tuscany.
1 week in Rome.
This will just be something for me. Discovering a culture, one might say.
All by myself. 

The world is going cray cray.

I liked it when I didn't know what was awaiting me in the future.
I liked it when I didn't have to make tough choices and worry about inane things.
I liked it when all I worried about was my Marathi exam (UGH, I HATED that subject) and if I would do well in my weekly Algebra exam.
I liked it when I didn't know where the duck I was going to college.
In short, I liked the 10th grade.
It was freeing and worry free.
Well, too bad I don't have a Time Turner. Or a Tardis. Or a good ol' Hot Tub Time Machine (Ahhh, that was a fun movie). I could do with a Hot Tub though.
Now I actually have to make a choice! Between colleges! *cue bratty spoilt girl tantrum and whining*
Yes, I'm still a spoilt bitch.
So yeah, me.
I've had this anger thing going on.
Its undeniably creepy.
When I'm angry, I can feel my anger travelling to my fingertips like sparks.
Like I said. It's creepy.
From this, I concluded that I'm turning into a werewolf. Embracing my animalistic side.
If I do, I'm definitely going to be an Alpha.
Hell, yeah.
Meh, I'm weird like that.
So. College.
That's going to be fun.
Drunken parties and late nights out? Whatevs.
Fun Karaoke parties and midnight walks that turn into drunken gatherings? Fuck yeah.
Like I said, I'm a weird child.
Who's going to college.
All alone.
Living by myself.
On a budget.
Without my mommy.
Cue the quarter life crisis.
Bye munchkins,
Tall Girl M.

WHAT IF.

I got into both my dream schools.
No, not one. But two.
NYU and Sarah Lawrence.
By now you must be like, "Why is this slut so stupid and annoying? Why ain't she jumpin' in the air like a dayum kangaroo?"
WHY? BECAUSE I HAVE TO CHOOSE.
Boohoo, yeah, I need a cookie, whatever.
Yes, yes, children are dying in Africa and I'm crying over choosing between two top notch schools.
I geddit, I'm a selfish bitch.
BUT right now, I don't care. I don't feel guilty.
4 years of my life depend on this.
My entire career might depend on this.
I can't pick the wrong one.
How do I pick the right school for me?
How does one decide between two dreams?
Your most cherished dreams.
Only one. Pick one.
Can you?
Is it easy?
Will your heart break?
Your eyesight blur with salt and water?
Over memories that didn't take place?
People you would've met had you chosen the other path?
Would that path have been better?
Or worse?
What will you choose.
What will you do.

I'm such a drama queen.
Love,
Tall Confused Girl.