In the driving rain (unedited notes from el autobus)

The warm drops pelt against the windshield of our overnight bus to Cordoba. The sound is almost deafening, like TV static turned up too loud. I am also kept awake by the two concurrent electrical storms: the one beyond the windshield and the one inside my brain.

Some of the things I think about:

I imagine myself looking back on this trip with Nate - effectively my brother since we arrived at college that warm August of 2001 - sitting around a table rehashing all of the wonderful things we have experienced together.

And about how Obama pulled out the Iowa caucus, and what that might mean for the future of the Estados Unidos. And science, public health, and everything else rest of the world.

And why does she exclusively refer to her past in the plural. The key, I know, lies in the allieterative Brian, Boyfriend, Brooklyn; the repetition deepened by the Ex- in front of each of the triumverate.

My handwriting is falling apart. Nate is waking up next to me and the electrial storms are now fading. It's time for me to wrap up this missive. We'll have arrived in the morning. Damp, tired, but optimistic about a new day and all of the yet unmade memories in front of us on this trip.

The rain drives us onwards.

Imp't note:

I'm pretty sure all of this writing, or this impulse to write, is fuelled by the limitations of leading my public life en Espanol these past few days.

I can bascially only express myself in the present tense. Trapped in the words of a 6 year old, my brain sends out a clarion call to express - to capture the complexity of tense, sentence structure, and content that my native tongue allows for.

Hopefully, my Spanish will get better - but these 3am scribbling fests are worthwhile too. Goodnight, en serio.