(score one for obscure song reference)

It has been a ridiculously long time, for a lot of things, in a lot of respects.

Today means there are only a few days left in the whole “Italy” thing.

It has taken ages, and yet flown by.

It is too soon, yet far too late.

You get the idea.

Today I woke up at the ever cheery hour of 8. Yes, 8 AM. I headed down to the bar for a bite of breakfast, an event which usually only occurs when I haven’t slept at all.

I was alone. Usually if I have breakfast Jessica is there, and we’re pretending that we weren’t awake all night working on studio stuff.

This time, I had 8 hours of sleep under my belt. I ordered a caffe latte and a banana. I realize this is a strange combination, but I finished the banana before the latte was ready. I stayed there in the quiet bar, sharing a little conversation with the designated barkeep. We talked about studio and the end of the semester.

Goodness, the end of the semester. I keep forgetting. I still have souvenirs to buy.

The barkeep’s name is Vanessa Peters. She will be more famous than you or I, more than likely. She’s a musician, with a disarmingly approachable personality. Her CD’s have been on display since the beginning of the semester. Everyone who has been to Santa Chiara within a reasonable span of years knows who she is.

I have been eyeing the CD display since the beginning of the semester. I met Vanessa early on, since she’s technically my boss here at the center. I heard a few snippets of her work before my laptop went the way of the dinosaurs. I was intrigued by her lyrics, and the slight but noticeable disconnect between her speaking voice and her singing voice.

I ask her which of her albums is the best in her opinion. She picks her most recent album, as I’m sure many artists would. We continue talking about the music, and how I have been close to buying all four CD’s on several occasions. She informs me that I can buy all of them for a rather discounted price.

I’m a sucker for discounts. Especially when it comes to music. Offer me a CD at a slightly lower price, and I’m pretty much game. Bulk is good, I suppose.

I accept the deal. She happily informs me that her third album is, in fact, a limited edition. She pulls the CD’s out from her traveling store, then signs and numbers the special album. I have four new CD’s, it seems.

Actually, I only have them by proxy. I’ve been needing to buy Jessica something, because sometimes you just need to get someone something. This deal is like clockwork.

I head over to the studio in search of my group. We’re slated to perform a skit in Italian at 11:30. We have not practiced, and the script was just finalized the night before.

Half of the group was MIA. It happens. I compiled the five scripts into one and printed them out with the help of the one group member I could find.

They are not there; I am a bit early. I use the free time to wrap the CD’s and fashion a quick “To:” note out of whatever paper I can find. Group members slowly trickle in, and I take a moment to run and place the gift where Jessica will find it when she wakes up.

I don’t worry about accidentally waking her up. There’s no reason to do so. She sleeps so soundly, it’s almost scary.

I rejoin my group in studio. We finish ironing out the last few wrinkles, and run through the skit in real time.

We chose the parody route. We make fun of everything we know about Santa Chiara. No professor is safe.

We finish our pseudorehearsals and meet in the theater for the real deal. First up is a skit about going clubbing. How very predictable. Next up is the best skit of the day, a parody of Jason Bourne.

One student here, Southern (yes, that’s his first name), has been dubbed Jason Bourne. He enjoys the comparison as much as we do. In fact, it’s a better comparison than the original: me. I’ve been called Southern several times this semester. Basically, everyone thought we were related, if not the same person.

We go next. The skit goes relatively well, considering our general lack of preparation. The final skit is a dinner scene, complete with cultural stereotypes.

I’m also a sucker for tasteful and playful stereotypes. The representative from “Barthelona” adopted the appropriate lisp for the part. I have always found that particular accent hilarious.

That wraps up Italian, save the final on Thursday. We break for lunch. I head upstairs and wake a still sleeping Jessica. She notices the gift, which was theoretically a “when I’m not here” surprise. I loiter around waiting for her to get ready. We make it to lunch a record 15-20 minutes late.

Not a big deal, really. Lunch is generally unspectacular.

We return to the room and she returns to sleep after checking her internet accounts. She has been sick lately, a fact which neither of us likes to admit.

I like being around while she sleeps. I read or surf the internet. I just like being there with her.

Dinnertime. The meal wasn’t anything worth really talking about. We chatted and enjoyed the company.

Strange to think that soon I’ll be back to lunches alone. Not emo, just a big difference. Family dinner is a great social experience, though. I’m looking forward to being back with the family.

The list of things to do is getting smaller.

• Souvenirs – the main remaining thang
• Final – quite manageable, methinks
• Packing – the kicker. Forces you to recognize the finality of such an act. Also, forces excess baggage into all sorts of strategic locations.
• Flights – gotta check those out. Make sure I’m still getting home at a reasonableish time.
• Goodbyes – don’t even want to think about it, but I know I’ll have to

To summarize, I don’t know why the entry is so long. Coming home soon.

Charles