Don't Cry For Me, Argentina: Weep

I have made two recent attempts to write blogs while on this trip. Both of them have failed. Do you know why? It is because I have been busy having fun with friends, traveling around Mexico, seeing ruins, diving into sparkling blue pools of crystal clear water and swimming with exotic fish. In short, I have been having a great time ( although the "exotic fish" part might be a slight exaggeration). And now I come to you from Chiapas, a state in the southeast of Mexico that borders Guatemala. And I come to you for one reason and one reason only: loneliness. Heart-wrenching, gut-extracting, pain-in-the-lower-abdomen, I-want-to-cry-and-hug-my-mother type loneliness. Traveling alone blows butthole. And this is just weeks after I wrote in my notebook that traveling alone was rad and that I loved meeting new people and seeing new places and "getting fresh perspectives." What I really meant was that I had fun meeting an English guy and a Canadian guy that loved to drink like blue whales and sing Bob Dylan at a ridiculous high volume just before blackout. And what I really, really meant was that the two weeks after that spent traveling around with one of the raddest girls I know and the two weeks after that with two of my best friends from Seattle composed one of the better months of my life.
But this traveling alone, the one that I am experiencing right now in San Cristobal, is a complete 180. It sucks. It's like the feeling you would get if you were up to bat with in the bottom of the 9th inning, your team down by 1, the bases loaded, a 3-0 count, and you struck out on three straight fastballs (in front of your parents and your entire extended family, including your grandma who had to be wheel-chaired to the game). The kind of loneliness that makes you want to curl up in a blanket, hug a teddy bear, and take 5-7 Valium.
BUT ANYWAY, there will be no curling up and there will be no teddy bear (no promises on the Valium). I have only been alone for 2 days. I am basically a huge pussy, and I realize this. It doesn't help, however, that I checked into a hostel here for 2 nights only to realize that it was chock full of foreign hippies. For starters, have you ever been in a hostel full of hippies? Now imagine that all of the hippies are barking at eachother in German and French. Yea, I just felt that shiver down the back of my neck too.
One inclination I would have in this situation would be to - you guessed it - get fucking hammered. I'm talking balls-to-the-wall, wake-up-in-a-ditch-with-your-boxers-on-backwards hammered. But I am not going to do that, because I know that tomorrow I would be even more lonely, and my loneliness would be compounded by the hangover, and the fact that the people in the beds next to me are a smelly guy from Holland and a wiley Israeli whose fiery red beard makes him look like something out of a Lucky Charms box.
You could also say that I am punishing myself. Maybe I need to feel fucking lonely right now. Maybe this will make me that "stronger" person that people are always talking about that comes with traveling alone. Maybe it will drive me to meet new people. Or... maybe it will drive me to rip off my shirt and run through the streets screaming lyrics to an Evanescence song . Either way, I will probably learn from this experience, even if it's only that hippies smell like dead cats and it's best to move onto Guatemala when you find yourself surrounded by them in Southeastern Mexico. That said, if you are lucky enough to be with a friend or a loved one right now, hug them. Maybe just hug them for me. Hug them and pray that I don't wake up tomorrow in a strange place with an afwul emo-goth song in my head. Because the moral of this story is not that drinking does not solve problems: it's that Evanescence is fucking terrible.
Saludos,
Boosh Clown

Song of the Day: Music is my drug (i think its called that and i have no idea who the artist is)