things which happen.

This is a good life and as such I am relatively incapable of writing about it. Except in my bad poetry. Here, have the latest one.

always the footsteps behind me are yours
the voice in the hall is yours too

when I talk to myself for hours on end
it’s not me who listens, it’s you
I never know what to say to you next
then my mouth is off and away
I don’t know when you became part of my brain
but you can certainly stay
(as long as you want)
One of these days I’ll wake up and realize
no matter what it will always be you
these things take time but I’m on my way
one of these days I will love you.

Not to overexplain my own work, but the point was that you can sort of preemptively love someone; you can know that that’s where you want to go with someone but you can also know that you’re not there yet. Is the point.

In other news, yesterday I got an email and about ran up a mountain because of it. This is not normal until you consider that this email said YOU HAVE BEEN OFFICIALLY NOMINATED FOR EXCHANGE STUDIES AT UMEÅ UNIVERSITET.

THERE ARE NOT WORDS FOR THIS.

Well, strictly speaking, there are. One of my favorites is fantastisk, and also there’s underbar and otroligt and förunderligt and vadfanärdettafaktisktäktalivet and that’s about all I can think of unless we get into German which I’m not going to do right now because my entire brain is blue and yellow. (Sorry, Mom.)

Ohmygiddyaunt I cannot handle it.

I, Red, am in fact going to Sweden. It’s real!

It’s unbelievable.

On Sunday Sam and I went for a milkshake and he took me up to this little outcrop near his grandparents’ house where he used to mess around with his cousins when he was a kid. It was rather reminiscent of Scout Hollow, as dirt trails above cities go. We looked out over Pocatello and I have no idea where anything is, apparently. When we came back to campus I showed him the little spot on the trail up above Davis Field where I like to hide out and read Christa Wolf, and we talked for three hours. He’s a doll and I sort of adore him, and yes, most of my bad poetry lately has been about him, because I can think of little else.

Except for HOLY FLYING BLUE WAFFLES I AM GOING TO SWEDEN.

Of which the best part is indubitably the possibility of taking a Swedish/German cultural comparison course so yeah, eeep!

Det är ju ett fantastiskt liv, och jag älskar det.

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