Well, it took me about 18 hours, three bottles of water, two enormous cups of coffee, a glamour magazine (shut up), one evening in Heathrow airport, two friskings, one 8 hour trans-Atlantic flight, one 40 minute trans-USA flight, three customs declaration forms (I really should stop using pens), and one screening of "Love Happens" (life lesson, no matter what, don't EVER see "Love Happens"), but I am finally back on the Western Side of the Atlantic ocean. And when I GOT back, after communing with my cats, watching something like 20 hours straight of netflix and Hulu ( I had to catch up!), and indulging myself in wine and microwave popcorn (a concept that has yet to reach Europe in a popular sense), I made a startling realization. Was it that despite it's heavy sense of procedure I still love Bones? Well, yes, yes it was, but that wasn't the main thing. No, the real and really scary thing I discovered was that I've been keeping this blog for a year now. Which means that some of you have been reading about my strugglsome struggles for a year now. Which means that YOU must be exhausted. I know I am.
That's right, it's been a full year since I realized the struggle had to go public. A full year since I sat in the Art and Architecture Library of not-Yale and first began to consider my life through the lens of struggle. And since that time the world has seen two Twilight films, one band of pirates (not the fun Caribbean kind, though, which just goes to show, everything is better in the Caribbean) , several massive snow storms, an unprecedented number of celebrity deaths, an economic recession (known in Spain as "la crisis", a more direct moniker, I must say), the marriage of a Jonas brother (viewers of the Disney channel weep), and the first ever Olympic games to be held in a South American country. Now, as that country is Brazil, well, the Olympic athletes might have to play with switchblades in their sports bras, but, hey, progress, right?
But on a more personal note, it's been a pretty full year for me as well. I graduated not-Yale, I farmed organically, for about two weeks, I traveled around Europe, I subsequently mocked Europe, I did yoga, I read Rushdie, I recycled. I was also kicked by a horse, got lost in major transit stations in at least 5 European cities, yelled at by tenants, contractors, strangers and Germans, caught strep throat, caught 4 different colds, caught many trains in the wrong directions, and struggled, struggled, struggled. But then, didn't we all. And perhaps I'm not so different as I was a year ago when I published my first post, still a mess, still can't figure out what to do with my hair, still technically living with my parents.
So as I look ahead to the new year, with all it's promise and hope, I recognize that I still have some struggling to do. After all, I'm only 1 year old. So happy anniversary to the struggle, and to all of us who continue to do it. And hey, at least my parents have cable. Things seem to be looking up.
Leah Franqui is a fairly interesting person/director/writer/reader/eater/drinker. She likes ugly dogs and dislikes her hair in the morning. She's a sucker for environmental causes and plays hardball with deals on chewing gum. She is a struggle.