Alex

I've had quite a busy weekend. As a matter of fact, I've had quite a busy last couple of weeks. It's now 20 days left until I emigrate to China. Not forever, but for a while. I wake up every morning in panic. Not because I'm moving, of course it will be difficult, and of course there's some people that I will miss like crazy. But this is right for me. This is what I want to do, and I've been waiting two years to do it now. I set my mind on my goal, and worked towards it, and now I'll be there in less than three weeks. It feels good to move. Well, it feels good to go back to China, it sucks to move. I've always hated moving, who doesn't? You have to take all your stuff, pack it down in boxes, probably live in a house full of boxes for a while, then transport it to some place else, begin to unpack it all, and probably live in a house full of boxes for a while once again. But now I can't take my things with me, and thank god for that. I'll stuff it in at my mom's, and some at my dad's, what would one do without parents? This do however require that I get rid of a lot of things. Went through my wardrobe today, why do I have so much clothes that I never use and never even liked? I saved maybe one third of it, and will give away or throw away the rest.

The packing isn't the worst part though. It's the rest that makes me panic. For example, I still haven't got a sufficient insurance, and I still haven't recieved my admission letter telling me where I will be studying (right now, I don't even know in what part of the country I'll be). I was supposed to recieve this letter last week, but wasn't very surprised to find out that I hadn't. This is a bit of a problem though, becuse the admission letter will also contain forms for my student-visa application. Can't apply for my visa until I get the damned letter.  Can't relax until I get the damned visa. Can't think straight until I'm relaxed. I respond very badly to stress.

Another undeniable proof of the present state I'm in is that I haven't written almost anything in my diary the last week. I'm a frantic journal-keeper, normally. Have been for quite a while now. I have to write, it's almost the only way I have to express myself. I've heard this phenomenon refered to as grapho-mania, the manic need to write. It's something I do for my own sake though, no one else ever reads it. Sometimes it doesn't even matter what I write, as longa as I write. Sometimes I write four, five, six times a day, producing tens of written pages. But even when I don't write that much, I alwas write something, at least a couple of lines. Normally. But not when I'm stressed. My brain just quits on me. I get absent-minded and can't focus enough to put my thoughts down on the paper, I'm too tired to even try. And it feels like I've lost something for each day that I haven't written anything. Besides being a vital way to get out the zillion thoughts cramped up in my head, my journals are also an archive, something written for each day, to remind me of what I did and how I felt that exact day. I wrote it, for no one else's sake but my own, and it's the truth I've written. Maybe it's not the true truth, but it's my own truth in that very moment when I wrote it. I can go back, read what I was thinking in a certain matter, sometimes I agree with it, sometimes I don't. But the important thing is that my journals is the ultimate truth of my heart, each day. So not writing regularly make holes in the records, I've forever lost the truth of that day.  

The stress puts everyting else aside. Soon it will be over though. I have five weeks of summerbrake once I'm in China, I guess that's enough time to calm myself down before school starts. I guess that'll be enough time to put me back on track as a grapho-maniac again.



/Alex



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