If you had asked me yesterday about how excited I was to be living, and studying, in Rome for four months, I would have told you what you wanted to hear; that I’m excited and can’t wait to eat my body weight in gelato. In reality I was really thinking something like this:
I’m terrified and I want to punch myself in the face.
Right now though I’m sitting in terminal D, trying to decide whether or not to change into my sweat pants. I’m calm, happy, and a tad bit anxious about this trans-Atlantic flight. (Dear future self, do NOT watch Castaway the night before a trip. NEVER. BAD.)
Truthfully, I’m still scared about not knowing the language or my roommates. I doubt the need to punch myself in the face will be leaving anytime soon. But, there are two simple facts that are keeping me sane:
1. I get to touch so much Roman history.
(no rope or guard will stop me)
2. It’s not Lubbock.