wwoofing updates!

 Ok to be completely real I don't remember where i left off on my wwoofing journey, just that I've been so exhausted at night that I play my silly little games then fall asleep so deeply that I don't remember turning a full 45 degrees in the bed. Oh and drooling a lot. But based off my pictures, I don't believe I've introduced the homemade pesto and farro pasta to y'all yet and golly am I excited to ramble about it ad nauseum.

For anyone who can't see this image it's (clockwise from the upper left) 1. Umbrian special bread that's made without salt so it's perfect for bruschetta (and yes, I will forevermore be pronouncing it the Italian way brus-ket-ta), fresh buffalo milk mozzarella from the Orvieto market, homemade pesto pasta with basil from the garden, gigli pasta from the farro grown in Gretel's fields, freshly grated parmigiana, a lemon from Gretel's uncle's farm, and toasted sourdough bread that she had made herself a few months prior and frozen for guests. Not picture: the incredibly fresh and bright salad made of arugula, dandelion leaves, romaine lettuce, and jerusalem artichoke with a splash of aforementioned lemon juice and a neighbor's freshly pressed olive oil (so green so delightful). Ugh I'm making myself hungry. I'm really living up the eat in my eat pray love journey. This was one of my favorite meals at the homestay because I could really taste each individual ingredient and the freshness and richness of it, being organic and homegrown and locally made. What a freaking dream. This is the kind of life I will create for myself in 20 years, I promise.

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The next morning was a rainy one, which turned into a downpour afternoon, so Gretel and I stayed inside and mixed paints to refinish the fireplace surface with a new tint - something a little darker and earthier. I loved the joke she made as I used a fine brush to cover the edges of walls: How is your Sistine Chapel going Michelangelo? Little did she know I would see it in just a few days' time hehe. After painting was finished, we reorganized the wood storage shed and I rebundled all the tangled and knotted string that we had used random bits and pieces from to tie together the reeds I had cut and dried the night before. To be honest, I wasn't completely feeling myself this day, and often while working wondering if I was cut out for this much work - nonstop, continuous improvement, barely resting, barely enjoying myself. It was moments like this that gave me some doubt for the future that I wanted to create. Was I built for physical labor? To be continually productive and always thinking of the next thing to do? Or maybe I was just trying to perform and be the best houseguest and wwoofer I could be, and overextending myself in the process to please Gretel and achieve my totally normal to want and possible to achieve hope of being her favorite wwoofer. All I know is that I was pretty sore, pretty moody, and pretty quiet this day, and I hoped tomorrow would bring better days.

And better it absolutely did. It was ridiculously sunny and bright when I woke up, and I was feeling much less sore and much more excited (weather-dependent mood?? Couldn't be me...) The morning began with some cutting of smaller branches and organizing them into bundles in the wood shed, when up rolled Gretel's neighbor (vicino, thanks Duolingo) and his handy-dandy tractor, ready to split the wood that had been awaiting a sunny day. Together, Sandro and I lifted logs upwards of 20 lbs (in which case, I could see his surprise and me biting my tongue from staying "strong woman!! FARM????" to both me and him) ((see the meme that I reference at least once a week here)) onto the splitting platform, where a pedal would drive the hydraulic axe arm down, easily cutting into the wood like butter and splintering it wide open. Who needs a lumberjack when you've got me, Sandro, and this adorable ass farm dog who came tongue wagging tail spinning running after the tractor that Sandro drove up the dirt road?

including a screengrab of the cloud in case the video doesn't work again :")

From there, Gretel and I stacked two hefty columns worth of freshly cut logs. Slaps the tin roof of the wood shed: this bad boy could fuel the fireplace for two months!

feat. the reeds I cut and bundled up hehe 🤭

something I thought a lot about while splitting the wood though was how similar wood is to us. They also bleed (usually a clear, interstitial fluid type of water, probably the wood's xylem and phloem being cut, but in one case there was a wood that literally bled red, right on the edge near the bark just like humans do); they have an inner core that's super fibrous and looks very much like bone periosteum, and are layered in the way skin is, with the outer epidermis (bark), a meatier dermis (the older wood), all the way into the center where the bone marrow is (newly generated wood growing new rings each other). It made me think a lot about pain and death, and if vegans are right after all - everything that we eat that is living is bad. Plants release distress signals just like animals do, and have complex structures and communication patterns just like any other species. who are we to decide what we eat or not?

That's definitely a thought to keep mulling over. For now, I strongly believe in eating what my body needs, which includes vegetables and meats and dairy and not manmade poor substitutes that only partially mimic what nature creates in abundance. I do think there's a responsibility to consume ethically and regeneratively, and only eat what can be replenished and taken humanely, but I'm sorry, I cannot give up good food, especially cultural.

Thoughts of pain in plants and the definition of being aside, I soaked up so much sunlight and sawdust and energy that I felt completely recharged. My body was sweaty and stinky and heavily worked, but I felt good. Like this is what my body was made for, lifting logs and cutting grass and pushing wheelbarrows and laying on a warm stone wall like a lizard post hard work with a fresh orange and bottle full of cold well water. It made me think of a post I saw once saying something along the lines of "come over and do hard physical labor while I sit in the shade watching you appreciatively with a glass of lemonade". it's me, I'm both. I loved that morning.

I also had a little vanity photoshoot in the sun with the pergola in the background and pride and prejudice in my lap but that's all enjoy a few shots here:

i'm at the part where Mr. Collins proposes to Lizzy and 🤢

My friends are right. I. Am. Glowing. I haven't been this happy and this at peace in a long time, and it's showing on my face and my body. I feel better, healthier, and I am excited for the future and life and all the memories and connections that I'm making. I'm back to me again <3

After a delicious lunch of baked potato and artichoke pancake (a must-repeat recipe), I set off on my afternoon task: building my first very own fire, and repainting the fireplace with our newest made paint tint, by adding a bright cadmium yellow watercolor pan, owned by Gretel's late mother who was also an artist (and met her dad teaching an art class!! In Rome!!) I'm happy to report that I succeeded in both :3

my babyyyyy - and another bingo board item checked off ✔

Evening brought a little rainy road trip to Casa Vespina, where Gretel's neighbors mill and process the spelt that she grows into her flour in 25 kg, 5 kg, and 1 kg bags, where I got to meet their chickens, cats, dog, and eat a delicious homemade egg cream courtesy of Marguerite, one of the owners of the agroturismo biologica farm. It's named Vespina after the dog that originally lived there, that ran back home even after the original farmers (and owners) moved away, and was happily adopted by Marguerite and her family. She has since passed away, but Gretel spoke lovingly of her incredible soul, and how well she was loved by her humans and chickens alike.

That led us to my last night at the home, where over a glass of wine and leftover potato pancakes, Gretel and I talked about her life thus far, her journey post divorce and recent break-up, and the self-love that she has cultivated as she took on this farm independently and built a community amongst her neighbors and fellow organic farmers. She told me about her experiences as a WWOOF host and the people that have come through, the crazy stories and the good ones, and memories and connections she's made, and the lifestyle that she's built and certainly inspired in so many, including me.

That day was a beautiful one. One where I felt all my doubts from the day before all melt away, after a few hours of hard work in the sun and a multiple forms of accomplishment, all tied together with meeting neighbors and sharing in beautiful conversation (where I understood maybe every tenth word like ragazzi and padre) and settling into a calm night of reflection. I am built for this kind of life, this world that I've dreamed of, and a few moments (or more) of doubt will not stop me anymore.

That led to my final goodbye to Gretel, Podere Mansete, and Secondo the next morning, but not a forever one. I promised her that I would be back and we exchanged heartfelt hugs and thank yous, and I left for the train, fresh fusili from her farro safely in my backpack. Gretel, if you're reading this, I thank you deeply for everything this week has given me, both emotionally and inspirationally. I'll be back again - and in the meantime, anyone who reads this should go visit her. Give her my love 💕

Learn more about Gretel and Mansete here.

I'll be back to pet you all you want, Secondo! And lounge with you under the pergola on sunny days.

wwoof night and day #1

 ah yes. I finally made it to Orvieto after my arduous train battle (it truly wasn't even that bad I slept for most of it and almost prevented my seatmate from leaving on her stop bc she was too nice to wake me up.

But Poderi Mansete, the place that will be my home for the next 5 days. I couldn't see anything on the long windy drive up, but it felt like Colorado and Nepal roads, with tight turns, steep drops, and nothing but darkness save for the beams of brights cutting through the steady rain. The car hummed as it changed gears - when I first got in the car I thought there was classical music playing but nope, just the car singing up the mountain.

Gretel is a gem. Someone I want to be like growing up, she commented as we turned in for the night that it wasn't our first time meeting, was it. We had met before, somewhere, somehow, in another existence. And I believe it. She is kind and gratuitous, she is curious and affable. She asked me a lot about my life and my relations and I learned of hers. She dries orange peels to burn as kindling in her fireplace, and feeds the local "semi-free" cat who drops by for pets and purrs - he even came to say hi to me! Her home is a haven, for art, for cooking, for storing, for growing, for hosting, for hygge - or maybe there's an Italian word for it! Her neighbor chops her wood for her and is bringing us fresh ricotta cheese tomorrow, made from the milk of his flock of sheep grazing on the best of winter grass. She does yoga and paints and draws and embroiders and hosts other engineers like me apparently, all looking for an escape from our dreary jobs, and I think she mentioned something about being a literary publisher, where she joined someone for a wine tasting and agreed that it was pretty superfluous but that that was the best wine that she had ever had - reminded her of her grandpa's briefcase. We talked about exes and crushes, kids and grandkids, and she encouraged me to invite the guy I have a crush on to the next singles night. All in all, the warmest, coziest evening I could ask for. It was everything I expected yet more than I had hoped for. It's exactly what I want to create for my future.

So I was way too tired to write yesterday... I woke up at 5 am (jetlag) and went to go pee and tried to go back to sleep and was so confused when it was still bright after I turned off the lamp. Was it my phone still? A mysterious glow from somewhere in this room? Ah, sunlight. Coming through my window. I felt like that one orphan who goes to live at her uncle's home in the mountains and sleeps in the hay bales in the loft. Does anyone know what I'm talking about?

call me by your name vibes (is that racist of me)

Spurred by the sun, I went downstairs to start making cha and getting my tasks assigned as my first full day as wwoofer! If I didn't explain wwoofing, it's like workaway where you work for your keep (as I wish it still was normally sigh) but specifically through World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. Huh. They coulda capitalized that middle o and made it WWOOOF. My best friend likes to call me a wolfer hehe.

First task of the day: break down all the boxes and take off the tape and stickers so that they could be used for either fireplace or compost. I was pleasantly distract, nay, aided in my task by the lovely Secondo (Italian for second, as he is the second) semi-free cat that roams the land but always drops by morning and night for pets. Look at that BELLY

After that, I was tasked with cutting down all the reeds in the garden, intermittently stopped by squalls throughout the afternoon but if it weren't for Gretel calling me back in I wouldn't have minded. I've missed the rain and the comfort of a simple, satisfying job. Snip snop snip snop.

Eventually though the rain wouldn't let up and I was started to freeze so I retired inside to the roaring fireplace (ugh. I love wood fireplaces) and soon got changed to go to Orvieto the main city while Gretel went to her yoga class (67 and still doing yoga and running a whole ass farm this absolute matriach). I climbed I kid you not at least 500 steps (good Annapurna training) and walked the whole of this incredibly gorgeous walled city.

I was doing my usual meandering without direction when I stumbled into two tourists who asked me for directions...in Italian. Stuttering, I said something along the lines of "scusa, no parlo italiano, io sono turista" and then a quick realization of ah! I have a map (god bless eSIMs) and quickly searching for the Duomo di Orvieto. Pretty quickly the woman then asked if I spoke English, at which point we both realized that we did, then I asked if I could lead their way to the duomo since I wanted to see it too. We asked the usual where are you from questions, where I learned her, her partner, and their two Yorkies were Italian-Brazilian!!! so grew up visiting Italy but speaking mainly Portuguese, and eventually that she went to University of Michigan dental school. what the heck. I'm realizing that the chances of meeting another Wolverine/adjacent are really not low at all, considering I've met one at least once a day since I landed, from Buddhist monks to owners of the cutest golden retriever who loves pets and fetch. But y'all, that church. was. gorgeous

It was also PERFECT weather. Sunny and warm the whole afternoon that I was there, and I ordered myself a cute cornetto and bought a dispo, both times using only the Italian I knew. I love saying quanto costa? I will say though every time I try to speak, all the other snippets of the languages I partially know come flying into my brain instead. Terrible.

After getting back home, I finished my work cutting down the reeds and drying them out in the remaining sunlight for use in the fireplace for the rest of the cold while Gretel made pesto pasta, with pesto from her garden and pasta from the spelt grain she grows over 10 hectares. Ah and don't forget the homemade sourdough bread and the fresh buffalo milk mozzarella! Literally insane the quality of food and freshness. We had an incredibly insightful conversation about childhood attachment styles and lingering trauma and wanting to fill feelings of hopelessness with other people's approval. Which is, of course, impossible, and we talked about the joy of being alone and giving that validation to ourselves, with our inner voices. It's crazy the things that we can connect so deeply about, after only knowing each other for two days if that even. As my little sister in Wisconsin says, quite healing.

It's almost midnight again so I'll beg off for now. Oh! I've also been getting further into Pride and Prejudice (thank you for the book my lovely) and having a lot of fun deciphering all the old English and customs of that era. Watch it start to bleed into my writing a bit - might be good to have a little bit more distinction actually. Tata for now loves. See ya later.

the wild robot 🤖

 I watched the wild robot on the second leg of my journey from turkey to italy (hehehe…….turkey leg 🍗🍗🍗🍗🍗) and i lost it. The first half was pretty meh, and I was honestly contemplating stopping it early because I just wasn’t vibing with the robot (you're still my queen tho Lupita Nyong’o) nor the knockoff zootopia Nick looking ass fox or even the little gosling who was supposed to be cute but was… too cute. Annoyingly so. But as the gosling grew and so did the robot and the fox, the themes of motherhood, growth, and making your journey count hit. By the middle of the movie (I remember specifically because I paused it to blow my nose from the insane amounts of sobbing I was doing), all I could think of was my mother, our journey, and how I’ve always been too scared to be a parent because of this exact loss. Letting someone go and fly on their own is never easy, and I can barely do it with my little sister. How could I do that with someone that I’ve raised on my own and put my entire life into? I understand how my mom felt, just tangentially, when she became an empty nester. Letting your kids fly on their own without flying behind them, picking them up when they fall, watching them and making sure they’re doing the right thing, is so much fucking trust and fear and pain and I don’t blame her for how she reacted. I just hope now that she’s found another purpose than raising us into the adults we’ve become, and I’m not gonna lie, I think we’re some of the best. If you're reading this Mama and Baba, thank you. You made us who we are today.

There’s also something to be said about growing past your programming. From the literal programming in Roz to the recessive genetics in Brightbill, it’s easy to think of ourselves as limited to all that we are - nature and nurture. But isn’t that being human? To go beyond what we're given and accomplish something greater than we are, whether that’s to change ourselves fundamentally or to create something that we ourselves might not live to see but will leave an impact. Everything we do counts, even if it might not be appreciated by others. Even if we might not fit in. It’s a good reminder that being different? Kinda great. Sucks to feel but you gotta love the reluctant hero archetype and remind yourself that you are one.

ALSO Roz uses she/they pronouns confirmed hehehe

Sorry just passed by a hill that looked like Teletubbies in the rain and it was gorgeous and green and so healing. I’ve been on the train to Orvieto for over 4 hours now and was on a train for four more hours before this…because I took the wrong ass train and ended up going to Frankfurt. Ngl I don’t know what I was thinking when I boarded it, all that I knew was it was the right timing and the right train type and destinations both started with F (original changeover was Firenze) so I just took my little macchiato and bagel con salmone (and goat cheese blecgh) over and sat down. I didn’t even question it when I couldn’t find my seat, or when all the instructions on the train were in German. Nor when my little icon on the map starting blinking north instead of southeast. I figured my location was being finicky with the eSIM, especially after the mess of the Ubers last night (4 cancelled, final one couldn’t find my location/start the trip so I had to pay in cash). I don’t know when I realized it, but by the time I did the next stop was Lake Como…50 minutes away. Still. I got to see Lake Como! Very peripherally from behind many construction fences and bags but ah. Better save it for the summer anyway.

Regardless, I am now on the correct train to Orvieto, where Gretel from WWOOF will meet me and take me to her farm! I have no clue what I’m going to be doing there, all I know is that she collects chestnuts and likes to paint at night and that she’s an absolute sweetheart of a grandma. Hmm. I was reading through my posts last night and read the one about collecting older brothers like tamagotchi, I think I do the same with grandparents because I never grew up with mine. Let’s tuck that away for later.

It’s been honestly very stressful but I think I haven’t shown it. Which is good but then I get super tired from holding it all in while I’m in public. I know as soon as I’m safe I’m gonna break down a little and cry and feel better, but I sometimes wish I had the strength to do that with people. I wish I had a partner who could take care of me when I’m being strong and can’t do it anymore. Just a little break, please.

I miss my friends. I miss being able to lean on others and not having to take responsibility all the time. My roommate summed it up really well on our cabin trip when she noted that this was the first trip where none of us had to “mom” the group - we were each very independent and good at taking care of ourselves and others, so no one had to take control. I miss that.

But that’s what this trip is for, eh? Figuring out my limits, what I can do and what I’d rather not. My own eat, pray, love, as my besties would say. I definitely am eating a lot. And praying for myself. As for love? I’m learning to love myself despite my mistakes and aloneness. Honestly I’m really great at entertaining myself when I’m alone and keeping myself happy (if you see my vlogs, you’ll know), even if it might come across as slightly crazy when I yap to myself as I walk down a country road. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’m more than fine!

First full day in Italy. Let’s make it happen. Hugs.

musings from the plane

 It’s so easy to get lost in nostalgia. Especially, I think, if you’re a sentimental fool (affectionate) like me who once planned to get tattoos purely in honor of loved ones I had lost, effectively making my arm a graveyard of sorts (I still want to, more abstractly, and have already gotten one for my bun Hue). But it can get dangerous and distracting when all you do is daydream about the past and how things were. Something I’m realizing (unrelated) is that I tend to repeat myself a lot - I always need two adjectives, or better yet, a list, and I end up adding information that just doubles down on what I’m trying to say and not being concise. I just did it again - that last two pieces of the sentence on either side of the “and” conjunction were in essence, the same message. But ah well I’m not here to impress anyone with my writing (even if my sister says it does thank you you’re always my biggest fan) but rather try to write my thoughts out with as little editing as possible. That being said, if there’s a glaring grammar error or spelling mistake please please PLEASE let me know bc that would bother me to no end.

Can any of my interior design and/or design based friends make a better seating layout for planes? It’s fine and all but when the person in front of you leans back and you’re sitting right in front of the bathrooms and can’t lean back yourself the claustrophobia starts to settle in a bit.

Back to nostalgia. I love reading back on my diary entries and posts and seeing how little baby Anu thought and wrote and felt - even as recent as a few months ago because it’s fascinating to see the things that did and didn’t come to fruition, and how my desires might have changed since. Consider barely a year ago, when I was ready to move to California, then New York, and now? Back to the Midwest babyyyy. It’s interesting how fleeting our (or just mine?) fancies are and which ones persist, but waiting around to see what sticks would just make us useless. Even listening to the music I have saved in my Loves playlist - some I immediately skip, yet I must’ve loved it some point. What changed? What keeps the ones that I don’t pass over?

I get lost in the past and refuse to plan the future because of fear that it won’t work out the way I want it to. Planning things, whether it be trips, decorations, or even stickers, stresses me out. I have a fear of commitment. Funny that I would be searching for something so permanent like a house, a lifestyle, a calling when I can’t even choose where to put up my pictures - I’ve never even nailed something into the wall (Command Strips i am your target audience). I’m working on fixing that, with a mission to nail a gallery wall up in my next apartment, no matter how temporary it might be. I can’t wait around forever for something to feel settled in order to make things permanent - it might never be.

But at the same time, I’m prone to fits of whimsy and delusion. Jump on a plane last minute to the other side of the country? Sure! Whip up some bleach and hair dye on a Sunday night? Let’s do it. Pop into a bookstore because it was on the way to an appointment, even if I only had 5 minutes, and buy a book that I definitely wanted to find preowned somewhere else just bc I thought the cashier was cute and anyways I need a book today for my flight at night and I don’t have a fiction book and where am I gonna find a used book and also are they making eye contact or maybe I’m delulu again and I don’t want them to think I’m loitering and walking out without buying anything because for some reason I care about that kinda thing but only with certain people and I’m trying not to for the general populace? If you wanna know, it was Parable of the Sower. To be fair however, a lot of the things I do are dreams I’ve had for a while, and the impetus to act on them just happens at a seemingly random time. Perhaps that just is my way of planning, and my next step is to communicate that and put it out into the world so it doesn’t seem so impulsive. Man. Communication. Yikes.

Contrary to all my job application cover letters, I am NOT great at communication. Sure, I understand why it’s important and I’m learning how my friends and family prefer to be communicated with and trying to live up to that, but sometimes I just wish I could go silent and let people figure things out on their own and not be responsible for communicating my feelings. It’s tough when you don’t have the language for it exactly, and you’re burnt out from too many explanations.

I don’t know if I should fully post this, it feels so raw. But I guess that’s what this blog is for, eh? A diary of sorts, the feelings that come up from being alone and travelling and figuring things out for myself and trying to live in the moment without thinking of the past. If I’m brave, I’ll post this, and hopefully, hopefully, I can look back it at and see how much I’ve changed - or you all can feel comforted in knowing this. But future Anu don’t scroll too far and keep rereading these. Just take them as snapshots of your life in your mid-twenties, and go live where you are right now. Wherever it is, I know you didn’t make it there by mistake. It’s by the feelings you’re having now that spur some kinda action and I know I’m proud of whatever you’ve created now.

Weird to be talking to the future. Huh. I’m so used to diving into my past and reconnecting with my inner self that I forgot that there’s a whole other side to my life that I can look forward to that I don’t know yet. Every time I’ve written to the future it’s always been in the context of oh this is what you’re doing now! This is who you are and what you’ve accomplished and who you are again don’t you remember? Nah, now we moving on. Let’s go do this.

rivers and roads

 So I'm back. After a week of driving and cavorting through the Midwest I made it back to Michigan yesterday and passed out in my childhood bed after a yummy homemade dinner and a quick update to my friends. I miss them all so much. I know moving isn't goodbye, and changes happen all the time, but it's been quite a mixture of somberness (is this a word? I know I have an English major friend out there 😉) and excitement amidst a lot of movement and random changes in plans. Spoiler alert: this week is just the first of many where I'll be living out of a suitcase hehe.

Bruh so much has happened. A dear friend had told me that they preferred to leave a party at its peak but damn is it hard not staying longer and doing a typical Midwestern goodbye. I've gotten used to people leaving me - sorry no, that sounds way more traumatic than it actually is, I just meant people in my life moving away - but I've never been the one leaving. It sucked back then being left behind but it kinda sucks even more being the one doing the leaving and knowing that you could stop and stay to end the pain but you go through it anyway, and make those you love suffer too. Maybe that's too dramatic of me but what can I say. I love being theatrical.

February was a blur. Celebrating Lunar New Year's with my shining star, to snowboarding with my shredding sista. Pizza parties with the pals to post-confessing to a college crush (on LinkedIn no less). Reuniting with my radiant roomie to a Candlenight concert feat. Studio Ghibli and a sweetie. Ok that's enough alliteration I can't do anymore anyways I got a concussion soon after but got to spend some wonderful time gallivanting around City Park talking about duck intercourse and elephant calls with some dear friends (see Figure 1 below).

Guess what I'm describing.

This is the cutest picture ever - thank you J

I also had the cutest concussion caretakers (shit, back at it again), reunions with fave college profs, lavish Lush self-care nights, and the sweetest Valentine's Day flowers from my sister 💗 she knows my faves.

The 15th was our Palentine's Party, which was such a wonderful snowy love-filled day. So many beautiful friends and food and meaningful cards and gorgeous bouquets like LOOK at these - ngl I'd be a florist anyday.

That night I went to my first singles mixer, with some kind words of support and little treats in the form of a drink on them from loved ones - and talked to some beautiful people! Nothing crazy but I'm poy for putting myself out there. Still got to end the night with the smiling face of a dear friend as I picked her up from the airport and caught up on the tea mwehehehe

You thought this was busy? nah the second half of Feb was when shit got realllllll I went to a protest with an absolute sweetheart, sung my heart out with the best at Pearl Divers, and started saying my goodbyes to my day ones. We went on a cabin weekend post a friend's car crash (she's ok thank god) and made momo and fires and hot tubbed. I started getting job interviews and bleached my hair (frosted tips BABE-Y) and went to see Mean Girls then Avs game then palak paneer cook-off (hats off to you M) then HTTYD in concert holy shit I swear I went to Denver more in this last week than I have in the past year. Especially that one quadrant of Speer which I used to go to SO OFTEN for reasons. Damn that sounds so shady but it's not I swear I just knew someone who lived there who I'm very proud of now and wishing the best for.

Honestly, this past year and especially month in Colorado have been so healing. Being on my own, experiencing Colorado knowing that I would leave, and still pouring my love into my community and seeing it grow even as I knew it would be harder to leave has been so fulfilling and meaningful. Thank you all for giving me this year, these few years, this lifetime of laughs together. Let's keep in touch, yeah? If you're still here with me, know that i'm not going anywhere and that I can't wait to see you again. I love you guys. (gals, and nonbinary pals. guys is gender neutral for me but I've always wanted to use this phrase hehehe)

BWAAAAAAH I'm crying again. That going away party? Always golden in my memories. Shit hurt, but it felt so good knowing that I had people that I hurt that much for. Thank you all, truly. God I miss it. I miss being in Colorado, surrounded by your wonderful presences. wow. sending you all hugs.

Thank goodness for my parents being there not only to support me emotionally but also driving that whole first leg to Omaha while I cried in the backseat like Chihiro (I getchu girl now where's my Haku dragon bb)

to my og colorado babes, this song is for you. i miss you all. sending love. mwah

🌊🛣

who am i?

i am anu. or anoo. or anusuya. i am a nepali girl living in a rocky world.

i love stories. i love the mundane, every day life. i love hearing about how people live, as long as it's not mine. i want to learn more from others and live through their experiences, since i am too scared to step out on my own.

i care about class inequities. economic, social. what it means to grow up a certain way, and how that affects your outlook on life forever. how people treat you and how you treat yourself based on designations assigned by society.

i want to give others a voice. to those who aren't seen, to those who don't have a voice of their own. to those who aren't heard. yet i dont give a listening ear to the voices clamoring in my own home. or my own head.

i like short sentences to prove a point. or set a tone. i like long sentences to do the opposite; cram all my thoughts into a single sentence so i don't lose my flow and i can argue that my line of thinking is coherent because hey it's all here in one sentence so why doesn't it make sense - it's not like i'm jumping from point to point. but here i am. trying to do both in different ways.

i worry about how i look. physically and how i come across. what others think of me, even if i act like i don't care. even this style right now with no uppercase - doing it to be edgy and relatable. also because i don't reallly have the energy to type a shift with every capital right now.

i want to be a badass no feelings kinda girl. but i'm not. i'm also not the most emotional and forgiving and kind person. so i'm somewhere in between in a 5d chess set.

i like to read and sing and listen to music, especially korean. i don't understand it, but i feel it. and after reading the lyrics so many times, i hear it.

i love different cultures and different countries and different people. maybe i'm trying to escape my own. maybe i'm trying to take something from theirs. but for some reason, i'm drawn to it. especially the food. give me all the foods.

i love people. sometimes. mostly, when i'm not tired or withdrawn. i'm technically an introvert, but maybe i just like to sequester myself away because i'm afraid of being seen in a bad way. because i do love interacting with others. people have even called me a social butterfly. am i?

i fall in love easily. i also fall out of love just as quickly. i have a fear of commitment, but i'm a hopeless romantic. i love boys and girls and those in between and those outside. i love dogs and cats and bunnies and horses and want to be a goat herder in the himalayas.

i get scared easily but can't do the same to others. i laugh and smile and try not to hide it. i cry and feel down and don't know how to show it. i feel helpless and alone when i know i'm not. i want to die but i also want to live. i want to live a normal life but don't want to be normal. i am a multitude of the cosmos, a complex duality in every sense. almost. i try to be i guess. just so that i'm not average.

i'm tired. i hope no one sees this but i also hope the right people do. and that they know that to be right, they just can feel not alone with this. i hope you're not alone. i'm right there with you.

i seem to forget who i am, so this is a reminder to myself, in this moment. the me of now might be different in the future, but i think some core tendencies will remain the same. i just hope the me of the future is more at peace with this turbulent life. i hope you forgive yourself and love yourself just the same. live happily and be well. love, anu.

this made me quite happy :) another post coming soon!! (as soon as finals end, I tell myself)