Goodbye Europe.

Today I say goodbye to Europe. At 3:50pm today I will board a non-stop flight back to San Diego (and get into San Diego at 7pm – isn’t that great!?). I thought long and hard about what to write for my last blog and still have yet to find a topic that sums up what this trip was to me. I’m struggling to find the words to describe how wonderful, adventurous, sometimes frustrating, and awakening it was. Part of me wants to never go back to San Diego – leave it all behind, start a new life here. Part of me can’t wait to see all my friends and family and go back to the normalcy of my San Diego life. Part of me wants to return and hide out for another couple weeks as I sort though the adjustments of being back from a 5-week trip of a lifetime. I’ll be honest, I’m thankful that I have a wedding in Temecula to go to, then a week of work to burry myself in, then a week-long trip to Reedley to escape to. Maybe by December 30^th when I return to San Diego, I’ll be ready to jump back into life, tell the same stories of Europe over and over, and find bliss in the simple joys of brewing my own coffee and having a closet to reach to for clothing and not a carry-on size suitcase. While life in Europe had it’s challenges – being away from anything familiar, living in close quarters with another person/people, getting lost, and being cold - Europe offered something San Diego never can. Besides the obvious things like the vast amounts of history, culture, language, etc, what Europe offered me was the ability to be whomever I wanted. In San Diego, people have already made up their minds about me. I’m the type-A event planner, crafter, photographer that throws great dinner parties and is uptight about the dishes not being done. But what if that person isn’t really me at all? What if people formed those opinions and by some unconscious act, I started to play into who they decided I was? Do you find that you’ve done that? Have people formed an idea of who you are and by default, you’ve kind of fallen into that role? It’s as if, amongst our friends, we all have a part to play in this story of life. A character needed to be filled and while I wasn’t a perfect fit, I was the best person for that role. So there I was in San Diego – uptight, creative, and meek and continued to be that person because, well…that’s who I’m expected to be. The more people said I was type-A, the more I thought I had to be it, the more people said I was Martha Stuart, the more I had to be it, etc (all done subconsciously, of course). And then I came to Europe. My classmates knew little of who I was outside of school.  Maria knew me more, but who I am to her was what she knew from work, happy hours, and dinner parties. And to all the passer-byers and people in cafes and pubs we met, I was a stranger. In Europe, I could finally figure out and be who I really was. No role to fit into. So who am I? Well, I’m still working through that, but here’s what I’ve come up with:

I enjoy making lists and putting things on a calendar, but only because it will get lost in my mess of a head. (I have, quite possibly, the worst memory ever. I would forget everything if it wasn't written down.) My lists are an unorganized mess of words on paper. It’s not detailed, it’s not immaculate, and it’s not perfectly organized. My calendar is only color-coordinated because I like the pretty colors. Simple as that.

I enjoy a tidy place to fall asleep in at the end of the day, but only achieve that dream about once a week. Despite what people typically see when they come over, my apartment isn't clean all the time, the dishes can always wait another day, and the laundry will get done when I can get to it. If I wait too long, then the mess goes overboard and that’s when the crazy cleaning lady in me kicks in, but for the most part, I enjoy the slow pace of picking up dishes at the end of the night, tidying up a bit, but not stressing over whether everything is exactly put away or if there’s still a tea cup sitting on the kitchen table.

I think about details. A detailed person - you probably think you knew that about me. But maybe I mean it differently than you do. I think details are what makes and breaks a person’s experience at a party or what sets you apart from being a good friend and a great friend. But I don’t care too much about the details of a trip or what I’m doing next weekend. I'd actually prefer it if I could hold off on making a decision about Saturday night until Saturday night. I like the idea of changing my mind at the last minute due to the sudden desire to go dancing or the sudden desire to have a quiet night at home with a book, candle, and tea. If I throw a party for work or for myself, I like taking time to put effort into the little things. I’ll be the one to think of making personalized nametags for everyone’s wine glass.  I’ll be the one to think of an extra touch to make a guest’s walk from the parking lot to the venue a little more enjoyable. I like to make people feel good.  I like to learn my friends' favorites, remember something they said they’ve always wanted to do, etc so that when it comes time for a birthday present, I have the perfect thing for them. But other than that, I’m a lot less detailed that most of my friends/co-workers/family think I am. On vacation, I have no idea what we’re doing minute-by-minute and I like to keep it that way, I like to get lost, and I enjoy talking to people and getting to know the real city. In life, I trust that it will all work out and don’t really need to spend time over-analyzing why something happened (well, for the most part). I’d rather move on, close the books on it, and just enjoy my life.

I like being alone. I love my friends, I love hangouts, and I love entertaining people whether it be a movie night or fancy dinner, but I love being alone just as much. I think I got too reliant on a few people before I left and forgot how to be alone. I’m looking forward to going back and enjoying some much-needed alone time.

If you’re a good friend of mine, then you’re probably right about my love for photography, crafting, playing guitar, and singing. But I don’t do it enough. I think I spent too much time playing into this role of type-A-stress-case that I don't give myself time and permission to get lost in a project or song. That will have to change.

I really really really could careless about brand names. I mean…really. So to my friends who want me to go shopping for the latest {insert designer name here} or can’t wait for {insert well-known store name here} to open for the Christmas sales, sorry, that’s not my cup of tea. I don’t really like malls. In fact, they make my skin crawl.  I’d rather pick-up a few things at Target and get most of my fun clothing finds a small boutique in North Park or a thrift store in Hillcrest.

I’ve been told I always look put-together, which completely baffles me, because I really don’t put any effort into trying to be. I enjoy wearing things that I find attractive, but there’s usually not a whole lot of thought that goes into what I pick out. Sometimes it works and sometimes I walk out of the house and neighbors probably think, "what is she wearing?"  I don’t spend hours and hours getting ready. I can be up and out the door in 30 minutes. I don’t care to take much more time than that on myself. I think it’s a waste. I’d rather have extra time in the morning to read or sit with my coffee.  The “being put together” thing goes for my life in general. My car is usually a mess, I still don’t know how to use my MacBook, I struggle through every one of my business classes, I’m still trying to figure out this photography thing, I kinda suck at playing guitar, but I like the idea of looking like this artistic, creative, trendy person on the outside. I have you all fooled. I’m not any of that.

I’m more of an analyzer and an insightful watcher than people care to know about. I look at a door and don’t see it as a door. It’s a passageway into a home a life. It’s a beautiful photograph. It’s art. I find myself trying to explain some of my thoughts to people and just end up looking like a crazy person. So I’ve learned to keep it to myself. I’ve only met one other person who sees life through my lens. My friend Alina and I found that we have a different view of the world than most. It’s a blessing and a curse. Maybe I won’t try and hide that anymore. Maybe.

I like Christmas more than the average person, I love hot coffee on a cold day just as well as iced ones, I’m not going to “stand up for myself” just because you think I should, because I probably don’t care all that much, I just want to vent about it, I enjoy disappearing from the world just to spend the day in my room working on a décor project for my apartment, I don’t want you to know me (sad to say, I like the mystery of people not really knowing who I am, but that feeling of closeness once someone finally gets who you are), and I like to be goofy. Now there’s something people haven’t really seen. The only people who get to see this side is my parents and sister. The Lauren they know is loud, silly, goofy, arrogant, and often annoying. When I’m around friends, I always secretly want to dance around to a song, do a funny impression, or just plain let go! But I can’t. I’ve gotten one too many strange looks from people who supposedly “love me just the way I am”. Ha! When why don’t people love me when I’m doing my interpretive dance moves? I’m not sure this side of me will come out anytime soon, but maybe one day I’ll get the courage to just let go and not care about who’s watching.

There’s so much more to share, but time is running out. I’m headed to Heathrow soon (quite possibly the worst airport on earth) and then soon to San Diego!

With my last words, I will reiterate how grateful I am for this 5-week adventure through Europe. It was more than a trip. It was an experience of a lifetime. I'm am thankful...

...and sad to go.