It's cool

that I'm leaving in a week and my room is a mess and I still need to buy a lot of things and try and use up the rest of my food and pack and start taking anti-malaria pills and finish up any last minute projects in the adlab and at work and try and stop thinking about how

I'm really scared that I'm going to have a panic attack when I see all the bugs or that I'll get attacked by gangs or get a tapeworm or fail at all my projects or not come back speaking better Spanish and I don't have time to

work out before I leave and I'm going to get fat eating pupusas and probably won't even have room for my running shoes in my suitcase (not like I'd use them anyway) but

somehow my enduring optimism better kick in soon (i hope) and it will be fine and it will be great because it always is, and I actually am really excited and really grateful

but also a little terrified.

Here's to hoping and praying and wishing that 7 weeks from now I'll be back and healthy and missing El Salvador.

my feet didn't even hurt.

Dear Ballroom,

Right now you are not fun, and I sort of hate you.

And I really have no desire to spend all afternoon tomorrow doing my hair and makeup and then waiting at the comp and then dancing and then not.making.a.single.cut.

Oh, and then not being able to participate in the get-the-high-school-seniors-excited-to-come-to-byu-and-dance-on-the-ballroom-team meeting because I'm utterly incoherent and my eyes are bloodshot.

Bitterly yours,

Katie, the obviously not Russian ballroom dancer