Nostalgia sucks.

While walking home tonight, an ex-boyfriend from four years ago wandered into my train of thought for no apparent reason. I was listening to the Beastie Boys on my iPod and the next thing I knew...BAM! There he was right in my stream of consciousness.

I got to thinking about heartbreak and what exactly constitutes a broken heart. This boyfriend in particular broke my heart. Matter of factly, he is the only one that has the privilege of earning that title. And man...did he break it good. Nice and good. He might as well have ripped out the organ like Robert De Niro did in "Frankenstein" while attacking Helena Bonham Carter's character. That's what it felt like at least (disclaimer: This boyfriend did not look like a gimped up Robert De Niro).

Anyway, when I got home I looked up "heartbreak" on Wikipedia. There is actually a pretty extensive entry on the subject. They even have a list of symptoms (I had 18 out of the 20 listed after the aforementioned break up):

A perceived tightness of the chest, similar to an anxiety attack
Stomach ache and/or loss of appetite
Partial or complete insomnia
Anger
Shock
Nostalgia
Apathy (loss of interest)
Feelings of loneliness
Feelings of hopelessness and despair
Loss of self-respect and/or self-esteem
Medical or psychological illness (e.g. depression)
Suicidal thoughts (in extreme cases)
Nausea
Denial
Fatigue
The thousand-yard stare
Constant or Frequent crying
A feeling of complete emptiness
Feelings of being sad
Feeling of emptiness

However, my point is this: Wikipedia does an excellent job of summing up heartbreak by pin pointing how much it sucks. Kudos Wikipedia. You've done it again.

Mathematics multiplied by complete boredom equals my new passion.

I've made the decision to integrate what I'm calling "social mathematics" into my every day life. I had this revelation a few days ago when I was in a town that consistently smelled like fried food while also noticing that I was constantly surrounded by obese people. Therefore, one can conclude that greasey fry town equals morbidly obese citizens. See? Social mathematics!

This concept applies to everything, and it's actually quite easy to do. I would suggest you become familiar with this idea as I'll be using it a lot from now on, especially in this blog. Social mathematics is a really easy way to conclude an essay, article, blog post, etc., so consider it a benefit to you, the reader. I'm maximizing your time while still keeping you efficient. And to show you how excellent I am at this, I once wrapped up entire essay on the Scotland's literary and art history by an equation, which went something like this: "Mary Queen of Scots + Robert Burns + J.K. Rowling = The legacy of Scottish literature and arts." And you better believe I got an "A" in that course!

P.S. Does anyone else think that Albert Einstein is wearing ladies' sandals in the photo next to this entry? Seriously, that looks like a pair of shoes that EVERY women in New England owns.

Bacterialism.

I used to think that homesickness was a passing ailment, something that could be overcome if you "stuck with it" or "just hung in there." Basically, that's what everyone tells you when you admit to the disease - and homesickness is just that, a disease - albeit more of the bacterial than the viral kind as homesickness can be cured. For me, I've reached a certain point in my bout with the illness. I've reached the stage where almost anything triggers a memory and the thought that homesickness is something that everyone can get past becomes implausible based on the fact that some are just happier where they came from rather than where they end up. The final destination is not always the best. It just sometimes takes new surroundings to realize that.

A jar of Nutella reminds me of a past lover from college, the smell of pancakes reminds me of breakfast at the Village Inn with my family as a child, sirens remind me of night in New York, and any long stretch of highway takes me back from the stretch of America between Oklahoma City and Lawrence, Kansas. Just a couple of days ago, I saw a canister of parmesan cheese at the grocery store and immediately flashed back to eating lunch with my best friend when we we were still in high school and every Wednesday was "Spaghetti Wednesday" in the cafeteria. We would never get sauce - just massive plates of plain, public school-grade pasta with parmesan cheese. How we survived off of that type of diet, I'll never know, but even eight years later, I still crave the stuff. Music is another inflammation of this disease, the pattern making no sense to anyone but me. Brazilian music reminds me of Scotland, French music brings back memories of New York while New York jazz takes me back to college, and lastly, just the mention of Johnny Cash makes me long for my parents - even th0ough I have no memories of ever hearing Johnny Cash before the age of nineteen.

And much like the flu, homesickness is a constant struggle of waiting for the fever to breakk, waiting for things to go back to normal. In this case, the cold wash cloth on my forehead is instead a plane ticket and the thermometer in my mouth is not measuring my temperature as much as it is my pride and not wanting to disappoint anyone back home.

I like Scotch (not the drink, but the brand of tape and the dudes)

Last night, I was lucky enough to score a free seat at one of the last productions (at least in Sydney) of "Black Watch." The show is part of the Sydney Festival and was showcased at Carriageworks, which is a renovated train warehouse in Redfern, which is a suburb of Sydney. I've been told that Redfern is also the ghetto, so of course you know I was excited to be there.

The production was based on recent interviews of Scottish soldiers returning from the war in Iraq. It features an all-male cast (holla!) who are stationed in "Dogwood". I don't want to say too much about it in case any of you get a chance to see it, but basically, it's amazing. How's that for a review? I have to say my favorite part was when the point was made that it took three hundred years for Scotland to establish a well-respected and admired army, but it only took two years in a war that shouldn't even be going on to destroy it. That's about as political as I get, so if you are more politically-inclined when it comes to the war in Iraq, prepare to walk away from this production with some strong opinions, especially if you're American. I have to say, it was eye opening to see (once again) how the rest of the world perceives us.

For all my friends in NYC, it looks like you just missed your chance to see the show as it's already passed through Brooklyn. However, if you check out this link you can see the rest of the upcoming dates:

http://www.nationaltheatrescotland.com/content/default.asp?page=home_showblackwatch

As mentioned, I like Scotch tape and I like Scotch dudes, which works out perfectly for me. I was invited to the cast part on Saturday night, so get ready for some awesome photos of me surrounded by multiple Scottish guys. Can you hear the swooning noise? It's pretty intense.

One last note...

I've been told for about the past six months how ghetto Redfern is (as mentioned, where the show was taking place). In pure sitcom fashion, my friend Karen and I got lost on our way to the theater, so we asked a passer-by for directions. He was kind enough to walk with us, so the three of us struck up a friendly conversation. And what did I learn? I learned that my newfound friend had just gotten out of prison that day after being hunted down by the police and brought back from the Gold Coast. He didn't say WHAT he was arrested for, but to say the least, I felt honored that during my first trip to the "hood" I met a real criminal. God Bless.