The Real World.

Disclaimer: This post is being written based almost entirely on the wishes of my best friend. (I hope you're happy)

"We all pay for sex; at least hookers are honest about the price." Tim Roth, Lie to Me

You know, you would think that with the vast amounts of The Real World that I watched with my brother, I would be above the petty arguments and little disagreements that seem to take place daily on the show. 


You would be wrong about this. You stick five strangers in one house; there are bound to be conflicts--big and small. 

The Basics.
I have never had the distinct...pleasure...of living with strangers. I'm not sure I like it. 
I hate doing laundry. I would rather exhaust my entire wardrobe, no matter how weather-inappropriate that is.
I hate being interrupted. More than basically anything else in the world. 
Time is so fleeting. 

The Details. 
You've probably heard the opening at some point in your life: 

This is the true story of 7 strangers, picked to live in a house, work together and have their lives taped to find out what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real.

 Well, that, for all intents and purposes is my life right now. Except it would sound more like: 

This is the mostly true story of 5 international strangers thrown together by AIESEC live in a flat, work together and have their lives sporadically photographed to find out what happens when people step out of their comfort zones and start getting weird. 

yes, I have always been adorable.

Here's the thing. I have always had the distinct pleasure of living with someone I knew. In my younger days, I shared close quarters with my younger brother. Not exactly anyone's ideal roommate, but we were family, so it was chill. 
When I went to UGA, my roommate was a girl I had known for 7 years before that. We got each other. She's having a bad day? Buy her Chick-fil-A. Is she mad at someone? Trash talk them with her. Is she bored? Let's watch a movie (preferably with either a hot guy or Bruce Willis in it). 

We had a system, and it worked. For two years, I was blessed with on of the best roommates a girl could have, so perhaps I'm just a little bit spoiled. Take everything I say from here with a grain of salt--unless you already do that, in which case, that advice is a little late. 

I'm not anyone's ideal roommate, I can admit that. However, there's a difference between not being the "ideal" person to live with and being the roommate who leaves dirty food and empty bottles on the table, the roommate who doesn't do the dishes, the roommate who has loud Skype conversations in other languages (Damn you English for being so universally known), the roommate who can't have one conversation without mentioning his/her boyfriend/girlfriend. Don't get me wrong; I love my flatmates, and I could not at all imagine doing this project or being in Szeged without them. Sometimes I just wish I had a safe-haven--a place to run away to that would be my own. 

On the other hand, they all love to cook, and have made me 3 meals since we've been in our new flat (I like food, okay?!).

Also, I would like to take this time to thank my previous roommate for putting up with me and all my annoying shenanigans for the past two years. <3

Next.
I have yet to do laundry. For the two weeks that I've been here (wow, it's been over two weeks already), I have yet to wash a single garment. Laundry doesn't seem like fun. Not that I would know from personal experience, mymommayormaynotdomylaundryforme. DON'T JUDGE ME. My mom loves me; don't hate. But as a side effect, I just have no desire to do my own laundry. I mean...it's not that I don't know how to...I can...I just don't want to. Let's see how long I can hold out. 

Next.
People are all very excited to talk to me--don't ask me why, I swear I haven't lied and told them I'm interesting or anything. Something that I rarely have to deal with in the States though keeps happening here. Every time I'm in the middle of a conversation with one of my flatmates, (s)he interrupts me. I would understand if it were once or twice in a week...but (s)he literally interrupts me in every conversation we have every day. And if my eye rolls, sighs, and annoyed looks weren't enough, I have blatantly told him/her I HATE being interrupted. It's getting worse and worse every day. I might hafta slap a hoe. 

Next.
Like I mentioned before, this is already my second week here. Every morning I wake up in Hungary is another day closer to me waking up in my bed in my parent's house in the States. There are without a doubt things that I miss about home, like sweet tea, and my family (priorities), and my friends, and my car, but it seems impossible to me that I after I leave a month from now, I
won't see the other trainees again; I won't see the kids at the camp again; I won't see AIESEC Szeged again. 

AIESEC Szeged Current and Elect EB.

I read somewhere that life has a mysterious way of bringing important people back into your life, and I don't know how true that is. All I know is that somehow, someway, at sometime, I will be with some of these people again. We've shared too much; we've grown too much, and I love them all too much for July 24th to be the last time I ever see them ever again. I won't allow that.