I'm working on writing about my trip to Sochi, really. Mostly, however, I'm sunk into a deep, dark depression and spend a lot of time staring at whatever wall I happen to be sitting in front of. I've been pretty good about not spilling my upsetedness about life into here, but I think I'm going to make an exception today. The cumulation was dying my hair back to blond this morning, realizing that I missed some roots, that the blond dye just got rid of the brown and not the red underneath, and that the ends of my hair are crunchy. Also.

I'm actually upset about leaving Petersburg.

This is a really scary thought. Mostly having to do with the fact that I got used to living here and actually started to like it. The thought of saying goodbye to my host family (at least for a year and a half) makes me want to bawl every time I think about it. Of course, there are a lot of things that I won't miss at all about life here, but it's also that this year of my life is pretty much over and now I'm going to have to make another huge transition. Moving back to Portland for the summer (at least all of that shit's figured out--I found a job and a place to live), and then across the country to Pittsburg, which is another totally unknown quantity. Maybe I'm upset too because I feel like just when I've figured out how to live here, how to interact with people, how to have friends--I'm going home. Which isn't really home anymore either, really.

The other upsetting part is that I don't even know yet when I'm coming back. Since I dealt with buying tickets to Ukraine and France, I asked my father to buy my ticket from D.C. to Portland so I could work on finishing my paper. I thought this was a pretty simple and reasonable request, but he still hasn't done it. He wants me to stop off in Pittsburg and take a look at the city and find somewhere to live, which I'm not really in a huge hurry to do. As far as I'm concerned, I can live out of my car. At this point, I don't even really want to go to grad school. I keep telling myself that it's all going to be fine once I get there and that I'm just in a funk, but the other part of me's not so sure.

I'm not so worried about going to France with my grandparents. They'll probably be snotty about my piercings for awhile (if they have their glasses on and notice), but they'll be fine and they'll pay for everything and I'll probably mostly just get to hang out and read in the sun and eat. Which sounds great. However, I'm way worried about going to Ukraine. Not that I really should be: I've been there before, I speak really pretty okay Russian, and Ukrainians are mostly more friendly than Russians. It's more that I have no concrete plans, no place to stay (although I've been half-heartedly browsing hospitality club), not a lot of money, and no idea about whether or not I'm just an idiot. Let me back up a little. There's a guy. He's Ukrainian. We met in Warsaw, Poland in January. He walked me around when I came to Kiev. We've been emailing, etc. since I got back to Peter. I like him a lot. He's one of the smartest and most interesting people I've met in a really long time. Anyway, long story short, I'm pretty much going to Ukraine to see him. And I'm really not so sure how I feel about that. At first I was really happy and excited, but now I just think I'm stupid and I don't really want to go. But I will go, because I've already bought the tickets and they're non-refundable. I don't know what I'm going to do there for a week since he'll probably be working, but I guess I'll figure something out.

I guess the moral of the story is that change is scary and upsetting. A lot of the time, I wish that I could just live in a box and not have to go anywhere or do anything, or deal with people. Then I wouldn't have to be cranky about spending large amounts of money, and I'd never get hurt or make an ass of myself. Of course, then I'd never have any fun. But I've definitely had more than enough of this shit. I'm tired and lonely and ready to come home, but the end still isn't really in sight yet. Send me happy thoughts.