Okay, every entry I say that I’ll write about all the other stuff I need to write about, and that’s why I haven’t been writing much lately. Does that make sense? It’s the procrastinator’s mentality within me, heh. While I’ve decided that I DO still really need to talk about everything that’s happened over the past month, I’ve just decided to write them next chance I get (which will probably be at home :[) as backposts, and continue writing about the present, because I have plenty to talk about anyway.

A good friend of mine just gave me a bunch of Spanish music tonight! And while this song is probably one of the few songs I actually can’t stand to listen to, I can’t really deny the lyrics… here’s one verse:

”
Cuando el sol se va
se le escucha hablar
paseando su amargura por la Alhambra
recordando y llorando por Granada.
“

Which translates to: “When the sun sets, talking can be heard, passing bitterness through the Alhambra, remembering and crying for Granada.”

Seeing as how my bus leaves at 1:30am on Thursday morning/Wednesday night… I feel like I can relate to this pretty well. I will admit that I have already done my fair share of remembering and crying for Granada. There was a little piece of me that never really even expected this week to come, and now I have begun counting down the hours until I leave. It all seems so surreal.

It all started last Wednesday; I was in my Civilization and Culture class, which I have NEVER liked, to tell you the truth. My professor has always come off really arrogant to me, and the class just wasn’t what I expected; many times, it seemed to be a waste of time more than anything. But I digress…. anyway, last Wednesday was our last real class period. We actually had a halfway decent class, because we had to get into small groups and talk about food, YUM. Maybe not the best activity for college students with empty stomachs, but it was something out of the ordinary, at least. We spent the class period laughing, listening to our stomachs growl and sharing recipes. Once class ended and we begun packing up, our professor actually said goodbye to us. Even though it wasn’t my first last class of the week, he was the first professor to actually say goodbye:

“Well, this is the last class… I hope you’ve had a good semester, and I wish you the best of luck in everything, EVERYTHING that you do in the future. I know I’m your professor, but now that the semester is over, come have a beer with me sometime…”

I never even LIKED the guy and I just sat there, completely dumbfounded. I felt like I had been hit by a bus or something, that’s how hard the sadness hit me. I was fine for about 5 minutes until I saw my friend Elisa. I told her what happened, and I just lost it. That feeling stuck with me for the rest of the day, and I’ve rid myself of it until today.

I just can’t believe this is actually happening. I want to come home, but I don’t want to leave.