Long Story Short, the Stain Came Out

Today I must confess nervousness. I noticed a stain on my first-ever pair of jeans to be reserved for semi-formal occasions. And I threw a quiet hissyfit on Calle Feria. I started to get flustered that I couldn´t even care for pants. Which somehow lead to a train of thought that I was uncomfortable with the idea of returning to America.

And Pam Wess asked me, ¨Why go to Europe when you can go to Disneyworld and see it all in a day?¨

I´m not sure what the root of it is, a stain, a sense of responsibility, or something else ahead. I suppose the closest I get to understanding is that coming home sort of signifies that things have permenantly changed, or that I´ll have to face that. It´s easy to feel constant dramatic and purposeful change when you´re on the move. And I guess I´ll have to try and stop moving.

I´ll be forced to stop moving as I checked my balance. Holding steady at 2k. 2k I need to pay first and last months rent, and airfare to my next habitation and student debt. Despite canceling arrangements for a 5 day trek in the Sahara I still party and come home like a pro.

I spent the day pantless. So I booked bus tickets, checked hostels, and contacted some British Organizations about science education and outreach. Not for potential jobs, but I realized that I didn´t have a great grasp on what the majority of city-dwelling Americans thought of science, and I had an even more restricted idea of what the British thought. And how they go about changing it. A few information packets down my gizzard and I find that it´s sort of the same, but I doubt they share a similar curious sense of abandonment and apocalyptic fallout.