Something that you do not know about me is that I have two cats: Fletcher and Luke. Both cats are between a year and a half and two years old. Fletcher is obese and last year, my roommate and I paid $800 to get some stones removed from his bladder. Apparantly, without that surgery (which we happened to be just in time for), his bladder would have blown up and he would have died. Well, since the de-clogging, he has commenced eating at a voracious rate. When I start walking to the downstairs bathroom (where his food bowl is) he is one step ahead of me, bounding down the stairs to get there before me, peering into the bowl as I fill it. When we give he and Luke treats, we have to guard Luke so that Fletcher doesn't steal his treat, too. We realize that his bad habits of eating everything in sight, and then some, are hurting his overall health but we don't know how to have him diet. Its hard since we own two cats, and not just one.

Luke, on the other hand, is incredibly normal. He has silky, dark gray hair and he eats a normal amount of food. The thing about Luke is that he is terrified of humans - actually, of all things. Sometimes, he is even freaked out when Lindsay (my roommate) and I enter a room. On Sunday mornings, when I'm at home eating breakfast or getting ready, he is frequently strolling around, crying. Like a baby, the only thing that will appease him is being held. Actually, both cats are quite a bit unlike cats. Fletcher plays fetch with his favorite kind of noise-making ball or a piece of yellow ribbon. Luke likes to be held like a baby and to have his stomach stroked. Both cats can sit up like humans with their feet sticking out in front of them and their paws resting on their stomachs.

I will miss Fletcher and Luke when I leave for Italy. They will belong to my roommate from now on so I doubt I'll ever spend much time with them again, but having a pet is a great thing - ever loyal and sweet and loving.

home

as my trip draws nearer, one thing that becomes increasingly difficult is the concept of 'goodbye.' for many people, this may not seem like a long time, and for some, a year off would be a great relief; for me, its complicated. ive lived my entire life in one city, in one house, with one set of neighbors and the same ride home everyday. even when i moved out of my parents' house, i loved the liberal, outdoorsy neighborhood so much, that i didnt go far. i'm not weirdly attached to home, but there are sentimentalities that i have about my parents' house, my city, and even the parks and roads that connect everything. when you spend all of your mature life in a place, you learn the nooks and crannies of it, and its quirks, and you love them partly because of their humble mystery and partly because you're one of the few that really understands what that place is about.

in my city, there's a road i take on the drive home right in the middle of town - it branches off of a main street and suddenly the world changes around it: enveloping you is a canopy of trees and their huge leaves making a sort of royal archway. in autumn, when their leaves have fallen on the road, the car's speed swirls them up and, as you look in the rear view mirror, what you see is like a ripple you've left in a puddle. there's a famous snow cone stand where, in the summer, people will wait up to just over an hour for a small cup of icy relief. there's a highway that loops the entire city but you would never know it for the trees that surround you. the skyline is a distant dream and at night, since there are no street lights on this road, you can drive in complete darkness with only the little white lines and your headlights to steer your car and your thoughts. there are countless festivals in the nearby park where, panting in the heat, inhabitants of my city will come to see everything from kites to coldplay. there is something magical about where i live and, no matter what mysteries Italy may unveil - and what beauties she may offer - there is something simple and calm and comforting about home.

Its just the beginning...

In June of 2006, I will be moving to Italy for at least a year, and maybe more. I was first interested in studying abroad after a trip I took, in 2005, to Greece. I fell in love with the beauty and mystery of Europe immediately, and decided to look into spending more time overseas. So, here I am after almost a year of pushing and pulling to get things in order so that I could live in Italy and I am thrilled. There is a lot that goes into moving to a new country, and, I'm sure, there will be a lot that goes into living somewhere as a foreigner. The poem on this blog is called Ithaka, written by C.P. Cavafy, and was given to me by a good friend in Greece. It inspires me to live my life and not just to speculate about what it could be. Ciao!