In love with art? Not quite.

"It's the city of love. I want you to find something-anything- to fall in love with. Now go!" James shouted at us tired bunch of kids. After a mere 4 hours of sleep and a train ride from London, our bus was pulling up to the Louvre in Paris. With my eyes half shut and my stomach growling, the last thing I was thinking about was love. But then again, they say you don't quite prepare for it.

I was expecting that something in the Louvre would inspire me. I thought that since it was supposed to be such a great museum, I would suddenly have a passion for art because it was so beautiful. But no, the most interesting thing I saw was the ceiling and walls of the building...they were well built and pretty to look at. Still though, I waited in line to take a photo of the undersized Mona Lisa and posed beside the armless Athena. My question when wandering through the many halls was why the stuff there posed to be any more special than anyone else's art. I still don't understand who decides what art is good or not, because if I were the one picking, my museum would be a bit different than that one. So obviously I didn't fall in love with the art. Oddly enough, I fell for something- or rather someone- impermanently in the museum. It was the clothing that made me look, the eyes that kept my attention, and the smile that made me fall. It was the first young, very attractive Italian man I have ever seen. He wore a white polo shirt tucked under a blue and green v-neck Lacoste pullover. To match, he had white shorts and shoes. He bumped into me while in the mess of tourists trying to get a photo of the Mona Lisa. I looked, and then he looked. And he smiled and opened his mouth, but was troubled by what language to speak in. So after letting him struggle for a few seconds while I stared, I smiled back and said quietly "It's okay." That ended his pain as he mumbled out "I, I am so sorry, miss." Again I repeated, "It's okay." We both turned back to the painting and lifted our cameras to snatch photos. It was only seconds, but felt like forever. I couldn't wait to boast to the bus about my first love in Paris.

Photos in my Life.

I have always been fond of photos. Recently though, with over 5,300 photos sitting on my laptop, I have pondered the question as to where my obsession came from. 

It all leads back to my Grandpa. Not him specifically, but when I was young, I remember him being really sick. My mother took photos of us whenever we were together. She said that they would help us remember the good times later. I didn't really understand, confused if she was telling me I would forget, or even why I would have to remember if good times kept coming. Now that my Grandpa is gone, and has been for over half of my life, I know what my mom meant. Whenever I am at home, I go digging through boxes of developed photos shoved in the closet under the stairs. Apparently my family doesn't have time to dig up old photos, but I guess my breaks are the time I try to do so. Looking at photos of me and Grandpa does bring up great times that I have almost forgotten about. I remember the days when I would run back home upset, because Grandpa beat me ten times in a row at rummy (our traditional card game.) I remember the days at my grandparents' cabin, sitting around the fire trying to make the perfect marshmallow. 

See these photos are what remind me of these memories and bring them back to life. Without the photos, I would have lost touch with all of these good times. I think that's my fear. If I don't have photo evidence of something, my brain will forget. And so I make sure I have enough photos of everything. My camera comes everywhere with me, because you never know when a moment will appear and it just can't be described by words alone. I will always have my camera by my side. Its a true photographic memory. 

When I am older and my life has changed, I will have photos to remind me about the important things. Actually, I will have photos to remind me of the stupid irrelevant things in my life as well. Like a paper hat that amused me and some friends for a day and proof that I brought notes home with me during a break to assure a friend they were on my mind. There are pictures of facial expressions while eating sour candies, and devoted teachers painting nails during spirit week. These moments represent the times in my life I think are worth remembering. And trust me, there's a lot of them. I never second guess myself on whether to take a photo or not, because I would rather have the photo than regret taking it. 

I am still strong.

It's been a pretty rough few days. and I assume with my stupid self, it's going to be a stupid week. Maybe it's my fault for bottling things up for half a year. I had talked about it, and cried a bit for him. But until Saturday, I had never cried for myself. 

You know I am strong. I am pretty good at holding myself together. When I'm by myself I can be a different person, but out and about, I hate letting people see weakness in me. That's why I was so mad when I screamed his name across campus. Of course he stopped, and when he noticed I wasn't okay, he ran towards me. Well hello tears. He had things to do and people to see, but he stood there, holding me tight. He let me cry and cry without speaking a word. I couldn't have said anything, even if he asked. But he didn't ask. Not until I was ready to answer. I felt like an idiot. My red face even darker than usual. The other boys were waiting for him...I was making them all late for practice. I couldn't let Coach Hand get mad at them. So I tried really hard to pull myself together. Arnaldo knew it was about my father. He looked at me, started to ask. I just nodded, and uh oh. More tears. There was no where for them to go but out. I am just so happy I have such amazing friends. They took me to the baseball field and didn't let me go until they had to. They promised that he would be okay, and that I was never ever alone because they were my family here. They made funny faces and reminded me of time we've had. They blasted crazy music into my ears and danced like, well, them. You know I really thought that was the end of my weakness showing through.

I am really good at distracting myself. I tend to use distractions as a way to solve every problem. That's when I mess up and let people down. Stupid me. But the MAIT was the perfect thing. Who can think about cancer when they are wear a volunteer shirt with purple and gold beads, matching converse shoes and face paint all over. Not me anyway. All night I concentrated on screaming my heart out for the boys, making sure no one went home sad. I put the balls on the court before every game and at halftime. I organized half time events and watched three of my friends win $50 for getting a basket from half court. After, I surrounded myself with the happiest people ever. Their attitudes rub off on everyone I think. 

Saturday ended and Sunday morning came. Sunday is the lord's day. I have so much to thank him for, I can't believe I was even sad. But I was. And it came even harder than before. I wasn't going to let my friends see me like this. I had found the solution and I was sticking to it. I needed to rollerblade. And when I rollerblade I could cry and cry and nobody would see. I could be in my own world and let everything out. Entonces esos puertorriqueños locos cinieron cambiar mis planes. They were thinking otherwise. "Chasing sobbing Leanne to the track seems like a good idea. Lets forget the fact she ignored our phone calls and our texts and walked away from us at lunch." Urghhh. See they're not supposed to see that side of me. I am tough. I can handle this. They made me stop. I mean, unless I ran them over, which could lead to injuries and eternal guilt on my part. And so they hugged me and let me cry out all of the liquid in me. You know I don't think I've ever in my life cried that much. 

But amazing things happened out at that field. Those amazing people showed me why I trust them. They reminded me that everything will be okay. If it's not okay, they will always be there to make it okay. Not only them, but their families too. It's gotta be the first time I have prayed in Spanish. I didn't understand it all, but it was beautiful. Three prayers from people I have never even met. They told me that they cared. They assured me that I have the best people I could ever have right here with me all the time. We prayed and prayed. God's got this for me. I just needed someone to remind me of this obvious fact.  So I became closer with my best friends. I now officially owe them my life. 

I still am quite a mess. But maybe better? Maybe just more distracted. Whatever it may be, I think I got better this weekend. I think letting some things out and talking to people is good. Very much needed on my part. 

Too much...

I have problems. Well, like everyone, I have lots. Let's just focus on one right now. I care about people too much, and I love too easily. Not easily, just without expecting it in return. Usually it's okay, but sometimes, it leads me into trouble. Tonight she told me "...and babe, you can do better. you deserve someone who will appreciate and respect you." I guess I do. But somehow its the idiots who I spend my time with. I waste my time worrying about them, when I should leave their sorry selves behind because I am better than that. I don't get anything back from them, and after so many years, I'm just used to it. 

My best friends are supposed to care about me and have my best interest in mind. They should want to spend time with me and love me unconditionally. That's what I try to do for my best friends. I put them above myself cause I wish for the same back. And don't get me wrong--with most of them, I get back what I give them (and more). There's just the few who take me for granted. And I let them. Antonio always tells me that I am "so smart with books" and how can I "be so stupid at life." Maybe I am just lacking common sense skills. I am only realizing it now that I am becoming more sure of myself. I am noticing that 

I don't need people who don't need me. It's good, but it's just another stupid thing in my life that I don't have time to deal with right now.

School drives me over the edge night after night. Studying has become my life. When I don't have a book open, I try to ride horses, the reason I made this life changing decision. I guess I speak to some friends. But I don't have the time I wish I did to keep up relationships. I find moments to call the ones I love, even when they aren't worthy of it. I guess my realizations are part of life. It's a learning process, and it just sucks that I'm a bit slower than others. 

P.S. Here's my most recent favourite picture that I have taken. It was my last night in Mexico. When i was trying to find beauty, I found it in the most simple things, even when it's too dark to see much of it.