Now that I am better, I feel more comprehensive to the last few days here. I am an easygoing lass, so I do not have 'bad days' too often. This one lasted more than one and exploded. I all started last Thursday, March 8th...
Thursday was going to be a good day. I was going to meet with my chat pal, Alessio, for the first time around 5:00 pm. I was doing laundry that day, so I was feeling cute wearing my skirt with tights and boots. I have no idea what he looks like at this point. After arriving at Santa Croce, I begin to search around to see if someone is looking for me as I am them. Unfortunately, I caught the eye of a man who was either Italian or one of the fearful Albanians. Nothing more needed, he approaches me and begins to hit on me. Asking my name, age, if I have a boyfriend. I tell him no, I am waiting for someone. Does he give up? Nope! Even after he leaves for a short moment and I am texting Alessio in a fright, he comes back and keeps on talking to me as though that is alright. Luckily, Alessio was in the Piazza and I finally am able to shake off the man.
I will do another post about the cool though odd experience with Alessio in another post. It is not included in my 'bad days.'
Though my bad days were not consecutive with my chat pal interaction to break it up, Friday definitely took the cake. I knew I was going to be out of the apartment all day. Midterms were next week, and I needed to get all my art classes work done. I made a list and what I needed to get finished at each stop. I was prepared. I had bread and nutella. Nothing could get me off course.
Was I wrong.
First stop, printing my Digital Illustration piece. No biggie. Arrive at DIVA (the building with all the printers and computers), print off my illustration, head off to the F_AIR (Florence Artist in Residence) building to get a dent in on my oils project. I even got done early in printing, so I had an extra half hour to work before my next appointment!
At the F_AIR building, I started putting more detail into my project. Later on, I knew that I had to attend the Arty Friday that went to a museum as a make-up class for printmaking. Turns out, though, you had to sign up for it because only a limited amount of people could attend. And it was full. So my printmaking teacher made it mandatory for us to go to this, but failed to tell us to sign up. This is where the day started going down hill. So my entire printmaking class was not signed up for this excursion. The head lady was not happy about this. At all.
Oh, it gets better.
Of course, I was unable to finish my oils painting. I was just going to have to try to finish it in class (which I did not).
Everyone was supposed to be at the F_AIR building at 2:30 to be ready to go to the museum. After much exclaiming and probably cursing, all the students (and extras) headed over to the museum. Which was about a 15 minutes walk. In the opposite direction I needed to go for my next appointment.
A little more background at this point. The last thing on my list of things-to-do was my final prints for my printmaking class. I have two etched plates each requiring five prints each. I stayed three hours after class on Wednesday to do the five prints for one of the plates. So I needed to do five prints for the other plate in the only lab time I could attend. This Friday. Lab hours? Two to seven. The museum mess started at 2:30, so I was not going to be able to go until after it. Normally, these things only take an hour...
Back to the walk to the museum. Yes, the walk. Not even to the museum and my day manages to crumble around me. Turns out I was supposed to print all my illustrations that morning, not just my favorite. I was under the impression that I only had to finish two of the concepts. I did not like my third piece at all so no longer considered it viable to my attention. Ah, nope. There's a few more hours I do not have that will be required to do a project I dislike.
At this point I am ranting like mad to my friends about how I have more work here, in Florence, than back home! As much as I love learning stuff, I am in Italy! I have not been able to even make day trips these last few weeks because they expect so much from me. Do they not realize that half of the experience studying abroad in the fact that I am abroad to learn and explore another country? Apparently not! And on top of that, with the limited lab time for Printmaking, the professor had us come to this Arty Friday (which I assure, would be cool on any other day), taking up half the lab time to finish our midterm prints.
Anyhow, karma is certainly a b*tch, isn't it? Museum in sight, I end up catching a cobblestone just right and find myself staring at the ground. My water bottle flies across the street. I am not even sure how I got there right away. Quickly I stand. Good thing I have no pride, or I would have been embaressed. My friends are really cool right now and help me up, making sure I did not faceplant. I have my friend John hold my water bottle for a while, then Jackie holds my sketchbook, also.
Oh yes, the sketchbook. I managed to save that. Always save the art! It was after I had Jackie return my sketchbook to me that I realize my knuckles were bleeding. Badly. A nice girl named Staci whom I met as we waited for our tickets somehow had bandaids on her! Godsend? I believe so. After dabbing the mass of blood off my fingers, I bandage them up. I did manage to smile and introduce myself properly to my savior and wished we would meet on a better day. (And yes, her name is Staci with an 'i', we discussed this).
World on my shoulders at this point. More hours on my illustration homework, oil painting not going to be finished, printmaking time dwindling, and a fall, I was not feeling the love. As much as I would loved to enjoy the awesome American Dreamers gallery, I was way to distracted and angry at the world (namely my professors) to care. Coolio enough, our tickets would let us in four more times. Unfortunately, the head lady was going to hold onto them until the end of the tour...
I cannot wait to go back to the gallery to properly enjoy it. It is really a blur to me. A friend of Devon's, who is really nice even though he smokes like a chimney, tried to talk art with me, but I was not in the mood and I fear he may have taken my attitude in the wrong way. I made sure to tell Devon that if he asks, I was just having a bad day. They did end up having that conversation, so at least he does not think I'm a complete jerk.
When was I able to escape the gallery? Well, at 4:30 pm, I knew I had to get out of there. Now. As stated before the printmaking studio was open from 2-7. By the time I got there, it was 5:00 pm. Instead of five hours to get my prints right, I had two. It took me three hours to get the easy prints done on Wednesday. No one had better talk to me.
I just zoned in and did my pieces. I did talk to my colleagues who were also fretting about the prints. Not a lot, I was not feeling well at all by this point. Seven o'clock was in fifteen minutes by the time I finished my last print. Done. The edges had fingerprints. I was going to have to deal with that later. I had to get out.
I think I just went home, had a glass of wine, and just sat there in our living room for the rest of the night. I had been moving since the 7 o'clock hour in the morning and I was whomped.
I told it was days, though, right?
Sorry to continue the pessimism, but it did not get better from there. Saturday morning was good, but I started to feel crummy by the afternoon. Coughing here and there. As an asthmatic, a cough can mean several things. All of them bad. I did walk up a hill and all the way to the top of the Duomo (awesome things that make these 'bad days' not consecutive and deserve a different post), so I figured all the exercise was getting to me.
Sunday afternoon and evening was when I really realized that something was going wrong. I could not finish anything I cooked, my coughing continued, my head hurt like heck, and I am pretty sure I had a fever. I was doing nebulizer treatments (just think a fast-acting inhaler, but with the intent of a long-term affect), which I do not do unless I am feeling really bad.
Then on out, it really is a blur. My body hurt. I could barely move. I was cold due to my fever. It is finally 70 degrees out and I am bundled up like it is 30. Monday was Italian class then History of Christianity midterm. Finished the test in less than an hour and left. I was able to leave early into my Illustration midterm thankfully which is at 3. I was in bed before 8. The class ends at 8:30.
My this point, I think I informed my mother of my predicament. I knew it would worry her, but I also knew she would have been sad/disappointed if she found out about it later. I felt I really needed her prayers, though, so I Skyped her up. She wanted me to go to the doctor. Normally when I have these symptoms, I need prednizone and a z-pak, both hardcore awesome drugs that get the job done right the first time. I promised to go on Wednesday if I was not feeling better.
Between Advil, remembering to take my vitamins, regular treatments of albuterol, excessive amounts of sleeping and naps (naps were enforced and supervised by Jackie, my loving roommate), I have gotten to the point where I can walk across Florence without being exhausted. I refuse to take the stairs to our 6th floor just yet, but the only ailment I have is my breathing, which is totally manageable at this point.
Just in time for midterm break! Off to Scotland on Friday.
P.S. There will be entries for the coolness that broke up the bad days. Pictures!
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