I'm nauseated from stress. This is a complex stress that is founded in uncertainty and fueled by really cheap pizza from last nights slumber party. My plans are to spend a week in Berlin, a quick stop this weekend in London for museums and a drag show (Maybe some rollerdisco and have Dad lap me again). After that, plans get loose. I will have a day trip (NO MORE) to Paris to send Dylan pictures of me re-enacting the Bourne Identity, see the Picasso Museum, and partake in the French traditions of "eating frogs, cruelty to geese, and public urination."
I'll do a large loop of Germany, hiking in the Schwarzwald, going to technos, and BDSM dungeons. Vivianne Greenwood (from Bard) has offered to take me cross-country skiing or snowshoeing in Switzerland. I have been told to see Prague and Budapest, don't hesitate to suggest things, Wizard people, dear readers.
People at work were upset to see me go, and in a way I'm upset too, but not nearly enough to stay. I've made friends here. We didn't see enough of each other, but maternal wisdom about sex is true here too, "It's the quality, not the quantity." Elizabeth and Ashley took me out to dinner at the Cowgirl Hall of fame where we followed a transvestite and talked about mental disorders. They also made me this going away crispie cake at my request:
The inscription reads, "Enjoy being a woman, Dad?"
I have no definite plans for returning (Sorry to say so, Mom). I have some goals of applying for graduate school in 2012, but I need to grow up before then. I don't know what I want to do, but I have a good list of people I'd like to do it with and a smaller list of potential places.
There are times when it feels like I'm moving forward and times when I'm just running away. Both are fine, especially if I listen to the wisdom of Landon Wadsworth.
And of course, you're welcome to come along. ENABLE ME.
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