Gonna get along without you now

Between avoiding unpacking, avoiding eating, going to the gym, and avoiding the world through reading, it's no wonder I've taken so damned long to update this.  Unfortunately for the people around me in my real life, they've had to suffer the brunt of my frustration at not venting my emotions through a highly privatized online medium.  Isn't it funny the way the world works?  In fact, I realized I desperately needed to write something today, while bitching myself out over playing the guitar poorly.  So I've added loads of Avett Brothers to my radio, have some tissues at the ready, and am prepared to unload some misadventures, thoughts, or insights. 

When last you saw me: I was in London, living at Gill and Diogo's, being generally awkward and misanthropic and emotional because my vacation was almost over and I wasn't ready to go home.  This isn't to say that I didn't miss my family: I did.  I just was ready to be selfish for a little bit longer.  My last night in London, we went to Joe's concert, and then ate ice cream at home and played cards.

They're pretty adorable together.

My last day in London, I woke up fairly early, took a shower, and packed.  I was fairly amazed that everything fit in my backpack.  I left London with a good 25% more in the Ergomatic, which was stuffed to capacity to begin with.  I watched the most recent episode of The Only Way is Essex, which I can no longer stream in America (sooo very, very sad!) and we drove off to get my legitimate, English Fish & Chips.

You don't want to see the bottom of the bag.  Trust me.

So glorious...

I ate so much, I thought I would burst.  I'm also very glad that I discovered this delicious, crispy, sour, slightly painful confection at the end of my visit, and not at the beginning.  If I'd known how good these are, I probably would've eaten nothing else, gained twenty pounds, and spent all my money.  We ate in the car, and I also had a Ginger Beer, which is quite delicious, and very gingery.  Quel suprise.

Oh, yum!

Irresistible

Yuuuuup

We drove from there to the airport playing summery songs.  We passed through Chelsea, where I will live when I meet an exceedingly rich English gentleman who decides he can't live without me.  Totally happening.  For sure.  It's a gloriously lovely place, with friendly-looking mini parks, and right on the Thames, too.  I was lost in thought for a long time, considering the gravity of my return, and what I would do once I came home.

I had to check my backpack in the airport, because apparently the flight was crowded.  I wasn't happy about this at all, but what could I do?  Then I bummed around the airport for a while by myself, and it was time to board the plane.  I was reading the borrowed If on a winter's night a traveler by Italo Cavino and surreptitiously spying on my fellow passengers while riding on the tram to the airplane.  There were Swiss, British, American, and Old.  Maybe some blurred the categories.  I was seated between two women, both of whom were fairly interesting.  The woman on my right was grading decently-written philosophy papers about lies, and the one on my left had a fountain pen and a beautifully written (visually, since I couldn't read her damned handwriting) journal.  I think she might have been Catholic, because that's the only place they teach you such nice calligraphy.  I finished the tenth book of the month in Cavino, and I'm still not too sure what I think of it.  Certainly interesting, unique, and not something I would've picked up myself, so thanks Gill!  I think I might need to re-read it to post an actual opinion, though it's certainly worth the trouble.

When I landed, the security people decided I was suspicious, so I had to put my backpack through the extra scanner, and repeat that I wasn't carrying any food products.  Seriously, I wasn't.  I hadn't been around livestock either, but maybe the Denver airport personnel don't understand any motivation for visiting the amount of countries I saw that didn't include biological terrorism.  It's a valid point of view, I suppose.

Mitch met me, and it was very nice to see a familiar face after all that time.  He told me that a man on my plane had proposed to his girlfriend as soon as he came out of baggage claim right there in the airport.  I was sad I'd missed it.  I still am.  It's reassuring when people hold hands and pledge their lives to each other in this day and age.  Maybe not everyone thinks about the ramifications of marriage and codependency the same way I do, but it really warms my heart to see people overstep the terrifying prospect of stagnation and decay with the optimism required to vow to be together for as long as they can.  Officially.

On the drive back to my house, I realized how tired I was, and made conversation as well as I could.  My mother was home when I got there.  The trees have begun to bloom, and the air is filled with their perfume.  I keep meaning to take a branch or two home.  I ran up and hugged her hello while Mitch brought my backpack up the stairs, and deposited it in my room.  He really is one of the warmest people I know, in spite of himself.  Then, Mitch left, and the rest of my family arrived.  I spoke with my grandparents and Dad and Mom as we sat there at the table, trading stories and jokes until I could barely keep my eyes open.  Then, everyone dispersed, and I went to sleep.

The last two days have been fairly uneventful.  It's now Monday, and I've been home for a total of three days.  On Saturday, I caught the premiere of Doctor Who (terrifying!  What the hell?!  Why is it so scary, oh my sweet lord?!), painted eggs for Easter, and bought the last Pasha in the store.  I made up the Easter baskets and was set to go to the church and bless them when I realized yet again how tired I was, and went to sleep.  Sunday, I ate eggs and blessed Pasha, listened to my mom tell stories about the night before and the subsequent drama, went to the gym, took my brother to see Rio (adorable!) and read some more of The Jungle.  Today, Mitch came over, and we hung out.  We played guitar, chess, and saw Your Highness, which was vulgar, but hilarious. 

I've been waking up at six in the morning like clockwork, and been feeling definitively under the weather.  I might be allergic to my cat and have never noticed, or I might be legitimately ill.  It's a toss up to be sure.  Today, I also started feeling very low, and there's no particular reason why.  I still need to go to the gym, and maybe read some more, or see my dad.  Maybe if I keep distracted, I won't notice how much less interesting I feel, and subsequently how little I like myself.  Maybe eventually, I'll fool myself into enjoying spending time with myself.  I've been dragging my feet in accomplishing things I need to do like get my brakes fixed, go to the bank, and fill out my FAFSA.  When abroad, I felt like I could be anyone; do anything.  Now that I'm home, I've assumed the vacated role of the person I was when I left.  This life feels alien, and chafes my skin.  None of these belongings are mine.  Even this body is unfamiliar.  Is that insane?