Larus Occidentalis

So in 30 days, we're going to leave.

Do I feel excited?

Honest answer: No.

And why is that? you may ask, as you violently murder me in a fit of demonic rage. Why are you not frothing at the mouth at the prospect of hot Australian boys?! (Well, now that you mention it, they are pretty mouth-watering....)

But the reasons for my lack of behavior that is frighteningly similar to that of a hyper puppy are these:

1. We've always travelled. It's a pretty much taken for granted now. And the fact that we are going to travel some more is no where near as exciting as you think it would be. Especially since that's all we've been hearing at dinner, lunch, and sometimes breakfast for the past year or so.
          *In regard to breakfast: I prefer my morning hours with minimal human contact. Unfortunately, there will be many morning hours and much socializing with my, more often than not, sleep-deprived sister. The conversation will be as follows:
     Maria: "What are we going to do today? Because according to My Schedule, I have to do this and this and this and this and—oh my God! I almost forgot! I have to do that! And then I have to write fifteen thousand words by lunch and—"
     Ileana: "SHUT. UP. RIGHT NOW. OR I WILL USE MY SPOON TO STRANGLE YOU TO DEATH."
          Needless to say, I am not a morning person. This is easily concluded by the fact that I clearly forgot that death by spoon is nowhere near enough to stop Maria and Her Schedule. We must also feed her tongue to various exotic birds (this will be complicated, as birds are evil and exist to ruin humanity's—for lack of a better word, peaceful—existence).

2. My friends! Where will my friends be? Here! With their friends! And they will be saying, "Oh, look at Ileana, over there in Australia with the hot surfers. She is so lucky. I wish I were Ileana. Especially because of her sexy hair. Her hair is very sexy." And at that moment I will be speaking with one of the hot Australian surfer boys when, all of a sudden, my über-flirty comment is suddenly thwarted by über-unflirty hiccups. Which is just as well, because he will assume I am cold, and give me the sexy shirt that has been warmed by his sexy abs that have been acquired through surfing and being Australian.
          *In Romania, there is a superstition/saying/whatchamacallit. When you hiccup, it's because someone's talking about you. Usually they are nice things. Alternatively, when you bite your tongue or the inside of your cheek, they're saying mean things. Do I believe this? Yes. Yes I do.


3. As a kid, I watched Scooby Do fanatically, despite the "scary monsters" (funnily enough, Disney gave me nightmares). And so, there I'd sit, gazing at the TV, thinking, "When I grow up, I want to be Daphne, because she's so pretty and so brave." It turns out, though, that I'm Velma. Not that I'm incredibly smart (that's Maria), but, like Maria, I can't see more than a eight inches from my face. So there we'll be, celebrating Chinese New Year in Hong Kong and BAM! There goes my contact! Where is it? Is it in my eye? Is it on the ground? Cue killer headache: one eye is blind and the other is fine. Did I bring spare contacts? Yes, I think I did—wait, no, they're at the hotel. Oh shizzle. So after ten minutes with tears pouring from my blind eye (it's jealous that it can't see), completely ruining my makeup, I give in and throw the other one away too. Then, regretfully, I will put on my glasses and my sight will be restored, at the very painful cost of my looks.

4. We'll still be doing school on this trip. Which is cool, I'll have something to do when I'm not reading old books in foreign languages (try to read Romeo & Juliet without Sparknotes. Chances of success are zero to none.), but this school that I'll be doing is math and physics. And I really don't like math. But if you like it, then I don't like you either. And physics are only necessary to physisists. I don't actually know what those are, and according to SpellCheck I made them up.

5. And finally, the fifth reason why I'm not jumping around like I'm on some sugar rush: the lack of internet. Oh, woe betide any addict who is removed from their internet! (Not that I'm an addict. Or attached to some ridiculous website involving a mysterious combination of books and faces.) But yes. The lack of internet. I will sorely miss it when I am off on a life-changing adventure, being attacked by vicious Larus Occidentalis* while I'm being über-flirty with hot Australian surfers (at least until I'm back at the hotel), and I'm not sure how I'll survive. I mean, they have pretty sharp claws. But until then, I will prepare myself for this scarcity of internet-socializing. (What? Spend all my time watching YouTube videos? I would never do that! Even if they involve certain British boys with names that rhyme with barley-is-so-cool-like.)


Well, that's that. I'm sure I'll look back on these fears and laugh saying, "How could I ever have thought the birds would refuse to eat Maria's tongue? They thought it was very delicious! However, they did want mine too... that was awkward...."

Ciao, until next time!



*Laridus Occidentalis is the scientific name for seagull. The reason seagulls were chosen above all others is revealed in Alfred Hitchcock's film The Birds. This explains my deep-seated belief that birds are from hell.