Too Bright For Texas

I just received one of the best e-mails I have recived in a while. It was actually kind of like a blog, and if it wasn't of such a personal nature I would love to post it. It is by far better then anything I am going to be able to post tonight.

Now a days, the majority (there are some definite exceptions) of the e-mails I receive don't say much. It's usually a clarification, or making plans, or sharing link and sending files, but just like my mail box, it's rarely graced with the presents of something I want to read.

Tonight I was sent an e-mail that I enjoyed reading. It made me feel better about that goddamn baby zebra, it made me laugh and it made me feel better about being me. With all my heart, I love those who love me for me, and not for who they think I am (I'm sure that goes for everyone though). The e-mail was a perfect example of that love, and I was in need of it.

So there is a Carney out there that I would like to thank, whether or not you know it, it made me feel like everything is going to be ok by reading your words., and that's are hard feeling to come by. Thank you.

Magic Fingers

Today made me tired. It seems every night right around seven-thirty I get tired and start to lovingly stare at my bed. By eight o'clock the lights are out and by eight-thirty I am asleep. I then wake up at one o'clock, three o'clock, and four-fifteen. My alarm goes off at five. I hate this pattern but it's just what I am having to deal with at the moment. I am only telling you all of this so you understand the sometime lack of blogs.

A huge shout out to Big Dan and Lil' Sam tonight. Dan and Sam are the only two guys in my class, Dan just turned nineteen last week and Sam is seventeen. They are really good guys and I have grown pretty tight with Dan over the last two years. I often say that I don't have many friends in Luzern, and although I rarely hangout with them outside of school, they have been nothing but good to me from the start and I am really going to miss them when I leave. Dan has a huge heart and has prevented me from quitting more then a couple times, something I am extremly thankful for. Sam is a loud mouth and needs a lot of attention (if I ever had a son, it would probably be a lot like Sam), but gets the best grades in the class and is destined to become a big name in the industry within the next ten years. So, a thank you to my two boys, who in an odd way make my life here easier, and also flatter the shit out of me on a weekly basis.

Oh! I had a very Project Runway moment today. We had a test today in my cake decorating class. We sat down and our teacher handed each one of us a piece of paper with a large circle on it. We were given a theme, forty-five minutes to sketch our cakes, and then another forty-five minutes to do the decoration. The moment he explained the assignment I started looking around for Tim Gunn, if only! It seems a lot of the class new this was going to happen and started to take out stencils and clip-art, Lil' Sam went so far as to recycle an old design, which I called him on and was quite disappointed about (he's really my only competition in decorating, aside from this other girl, so it's no fun when he cheats). Our theme was "Dankeshön," and I had no idea where to begin. Whatever happened between that, and handing in our work, I'm not really sure, but with total lack of humility I can safely say that I got magic in these here fingers. Seriously, I scared myself. It was pure magic.

Ok, it's eight o'clock, I can hear the bells outside my window, time for this backer to get to bed.

Tea With Boris

I just got back to Luzern, and am nestled warmly under my goose down covers. It was a really good weekend, but I didn't sleep well at all, and find my self in need of a nap.

My weekend went just as I planned. I got up to the mountains around two in the afternoon on Saturday, checked for spiders (there were none... until this morning when I found one as big as the palm of my hand sitting in the sink), unpacked, turned up the heater, and then set out to find Boris.

If you are a long time blog reader of mine, you are probably familiar already with Boris, you probably just don't know it. If you aren't a long time reader, then you can try and catch up by referring to, this.

I had met Boris a little over a year ago, in my grandparent's village, Prattlen. Boris was working as a dancer, traveling around Europe with a group of drunk Russians. Boris looked extremely sad and lonely when the Russians made him dance for me in the park that crisp October night, with nothing but a vest and hat funny little hat on; I couldn't help but feel bad for the guy.

About two weeks ago I ran into a puppy, named Bunny. Bunny is a 6'4 red-head, who snowboards up by my parent's cabin in the mountains. I run into Bunny every now and then, and he is always drunk to the point where he usually ends up submerged in water. Bunny however mentioned the arrival of a Russian bear, who had taken a place behind Grey Rock Peak, deep in the Green Pine Forest. It wasn't the easiest place to find, which made it the obvious choice for a Russian dancing bear on the run.

The trek up Grey Rock Peak was a bitch. Luckily the majority of the snow had melted at that altitude and there wasn't a lot of ice. It was cold though and the wind kept burning my face. The real difficulties didn't come until the Green Pine Forest though. Bunny hadn't really known the exact placement of Boris' place, seeing how not even the locals go up into the forest. I was a little scared, the first two hundred feet in was a solid wall of branches and trunks, and the forest floor was frozen solid and in some places, icy. The branches and trunks slowly came untangled though, and soon I found a cleared path, which I thought to stick to. It was a good half hour before I finally came upon the small house, it had started to get dark and it looked nice and warm inside the little wood cabin.

I knocked on the door and pulled the bottle of vodka out of my Freitag. Boris slowly answered the door, he was wearing a warm red robe and slippers. I introduced myself again and shook Boris large paw. He invited me in and smiled when I gave him the vodka.

The cabin was extremely cozy and warm, and my body started to de-frost and relax. Boris took my coat and I took a seat by the stove as he made us some tea and brought out a box of Palvalovs.

Boris set down two cups and started to serve the tea, and I took a Palvalov to be polite. I asked Boris what had happened since the night we met and he told me the story of how he had escaped the drunken Russians one night in Prague when they had all passed out from too toasts. He had then sought asylum in Switzerland, and taken to the Green Pine Forest because of it's scenic views and quiet isolation. I told Boris that I was very happy for him, and that I was glad that he finally regained his freedom, but why hadn't he gone home to Russia? Wasn't he lonely? Didn't he miss his family?

Life is different for a dancing bear, he said. Yes, he is lonely, and he misses his family and friends very much, but Russia "iz just not home any more." I told Boris that I had just written a blog on that very thought, and that there are a lot of people dealing with that exact same problem. Boris then told me that his only way to deal with the loneliness was to seclude himself in it, and I told him I understood. I never thought I would come to such a level of understanding with a bear, but here I was sitting by a warm pipe-top stove, drinking tea with an Russian bear named, Boris.

Boris and I sat by that stove for hours, him telling me stories about growing up in a forest outside of St.Petersburg, dancing for Stalin, drinking with Tolstoy. His stories were amazing, and I suggested that Boris start his own blog, until I remembered he probably couldn't type with his long claws. The more stories Boris told, the sadder he became and it was with his final story, about the last time he was in his homeland, that he started to cry. I slipped a little of the vodka into his tea and handed him his cup. He drank and after a minute of me rubbing his furry arm he wiped his eyes and smiled sheepishly, this was the first time in years he had a chance to think on those times, when life was about living and not about trying to survive with the absence of friendship and love, he said. It all broke my heart, and as the sun began to break over the tallest mountain, we said out goodbyes. Boris gave a new meaning to the term "Bear hug," and I promised I would come visit next time I came up, and he said he would be looking forward to it.

I walked the path back through the woods, into the thicket, and out the other side. As I began my decent down the peak, the sun hit me in the face, and for the first time in weeks I felt it's warmth and it felt like being kissed by gold.

When I got back to the house I made my self an Nespresso and settled into my place at the kitchen table to type up more recipes for my book. I spent the rest of my time watching TV, movies and eating. It was a comfortable weekend and aside from the lack of sleep I feel pretty relaxed. Unfortunately this was also my last three day weekend for a while, and this is looking to be an insanely busy month coming up, meaning I won't be able to visit Boris for a while. It was really nice to make a new friend and talk in the capacity that Skipper made me accustom too, and it made it gave me a new found fondness for bears.

In Search Of A Russian

I am just about to head out of the city, sandwiches are packed, the book that Skipper sent me is in my purse along side four boxes of Nespresso, and I am ready for my journey up the mountain and into the forest. There is a rumor that an old acquaintance of mine lives up in the woods behind my parents cabin and so I am going in search of him this weekend. It should be an interesting couple of days and I am really looking forward to the adventure.

This last week and a half hasn't been easy, I am working eleven hour shifts, baking my ass off, haven't seen the sun in two weeks and miss my family and friends to the point of it hurting. This is Winter. Luckily the baby zebra left about a week ago, although the situation that bore it has not really changed. None of that really matters though because my main focus is my work and getting through the cold. This is my last Winter to get through in Switzerland and I plan on not only living through it, but doing it with style.

Ok, it's getting time to put on my coat and get out of here. I am really just looking forward to getting out of here and starting my weekend adventure.

Snuggle Starvation

Oh Sweet Lord, I am tired. Work was work, and afterwards I went straight to the gym. I have really been sticking to my workout, mainly for a lack of anything better to do with my time, plus they have TV. It was bitterly cold and windy all day and right before my shift ended it started to snow really hard. By the time I got home from the gym I put aside my trip to the post office and then Migros, all I wanted to get into bed and snuggle, have some soup, listen to This American Life. For the lack of someone to snuggle I settled for a warm shower and some macaroni. Now Sufjan Steven's, Seven Swans just came on. I some times wonder if my iPod's shuffle function is alive, it just really knows how to pick 'em.

I don't have much to say tonight. I am tired and need someone to rub my back as I fall asleep. If only life could be that sweet.

To make up for the lack of "umpf" in this blog I posted what I am now calling, a "Chung Shot" (Good Lord that sounds dirty!) Hope it makes up for it!

Shame On Ice

Well, we didn't go Curling, instead we played Ice Hockey, or better said, I stood outside the rink wearing skates and watching. At one point the teacher took me to another rink, it was empty and looked like it had never even been skated on. As much as I would have loved to have some sort of "Cutting Edge" moment, there was a group of teen aged boys on the side of the rink watching me hold on to the wall for dear life. Really, there is nothing like an hour and a half of P.E. to bring back feelings of shame from High School.

Aside from Hockey, the morning was actually really nice. Walking to the rink at eight this morning felt great. It was crisp and cold, blue skies and sun. Pilatus was covered in snow and made for the most amazing backdrop on my walk towards embarrassment. After P.E. Lil' Sam, Big Dan and I went and got breakfast and took the long way back to school. The rest of the day went just as smoothly, having gotten two really good grades on my last two tests. It was a good day, and although I couldn't keep the baby Zebra out of the back of my mind, I was able to work around it and still feel pretty good.

I woke up an hour early this morning and took advantage of the extra time by calling Skipper. Skipper isn't doing well. Adapting to life back in L.A. is not going as smoothly as I would have hoped for her, and it seems that she is wanting to come back to the 6003. I don't know what it is, but it seems to me that a lot of the people I have been talking to would rather be anywhere but where they are. Same story just different place. The search and desperation for "Home."

Home. The moment you move away is the moment that such a simple noun takes on a whole new meaning. It means various things for everyone. Whether home is where you grew up, where your heart is, where you are at this very moment, or back in Oklahoma, Kansas, Texas, beautiful California, etc. This one concept, idea, feeling, place, whatever, seems to have its hold on a lot of us. On one side, when you move away you get to experience the newness, the adventure, the excitement, and the fear of leaving "Home." On the other side, once you leave, you can never go back. It's the price you pay. You can go back to your home town, back to the house you grew up in, back to the place you were before you left, but it won't feel the same. Although the place might have not changed, you have, and therefor things usually won't feel the same.

So what are we to do? Keep moving? Go back to last place you felt at home? I have no clue, but it's something that I think about a lot. I use to always think that home was where my parents and sister were, and for the most part it's kind of true. They are my "Home." A lot of the time though, I think it is where I am at the moment, mainly my apartment. I will however be moving out of here in nine months, so then what?

So I am sitting here trying to figure out what to do about Skipper. While Skipper was in Luzern, we spent a lot of time drinking Cola Light and bitching about the city, gushing over California. Now, it would be easier to just brush it all off with, "The grass is always greener...," but the girl is hurting. The problem is, I can't give an answer for a question I myself am obsessed with (Skipper luckily never looks to me for answers, she smart enough to know better).

So here's what I have come up with: change sucks, it hurts and it isn't easy. Change can some times make you feel hopeless and alone and insecure, usually all at the same time. Change is also the thing in life that forces us to grow and puts us face to face with who we are and who we need to be. It forces us to find the strength we didn't know we had, pick ourselves up and continue to live. So let's suck it up, realize that the memories you might have from a place will always be better then the place itself, and that most likely there will come a day where you miss the place you are at right now.

Read the words for what they really mean,

We shall not cease exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.

T.S. Elliot

You are epic, Skip.

Nashville 2008: It ain't going to be no Salzburg!

Snow & The Return Of The Baby Zebra

Saturday morning I got a phone call telling me that a huge snow storm was coming in, and that I should postpone my trip up to the mountains for another weekend.

Fifteen minutes before that phone call, I had just hung up on another. This first call didn't go as planned, in fact thinking about it now, I feel a mixture between feeling like I fucked up, and knowing that I also didn't want to feel like crap anymore. With that said, there was no way I was going to stay in my apartment for three days. I needed to be alone, I needed to get away from the Internet, my desk chair, and I really needed to watch some tv.

So I braved it. I packed sandwiches, and lasagna, and the makings for a pizza, bought a DVD player and ventured out into the sub-zero degree weather to Sorenberg. It took a train, a bus and a trek through ankle deep snow to get to the house, but it felt amazing to walk into the warm cabin.

I spent the first five minutes like I always do when I go up to the house. I took out a can of hair spray and took off one shoe and went looking for spiders. The cabin is made out of wood and sits between two big barns, so we aren't talking about Daddy Long-Legs, we are talking about RODENT size spiders that leave nasty stains when faced with my shoe. The hairspray is kind of new and I am not sure it works or it's purpose, all I know is that the new stuff I have been trying smells nothing short of rank, and leaves my fro plump and stiff. I figured it might at least slow them down, seeing how the bigger they are the faster they can run.

I am glad to report I didn't find any spiders, and I can say that my search was extensive, including pulling furniture away from the walls and yanking mattress off bed frames, I don't like to take chances. I then tried setting up the DVD player, and was really happy when it worked, but then disappointed because although advertised as "Code Free," it wasn't. Luck stacking up against me, the cable then went out due to the storm. Regardless of the lack of entertainment, I was happy to be there and happy to not have to wallow in my apartment.

To sum up my beautiful, yet totally uneventful weekend, I worked on my recipe book, ate dinner with some family friends, watched a lot of CNN and VIVA, and ate. It snowed and snowed, and from the inside, it was beautiful. Being alone, with no Internet, and nothing to do but stay inside and keep warm, it was one of the most relaxing weekends I have had in a very long time. So for all of you who silently pitied, or verbally felt bad for me, no need. I plan on going back next weekend with Frau.

Getting back this morning, I couldn't help but feel the funk of Saturday morning's phone call lingering in my apartment. I left as soon as I felt it and went shopping for Christmas ornaments and lights (Got to start early). On my walk I couldn't help but flip-flop from feeling like I might have just made a really big mistake and given up something I want, and reminding myself that I would be able to live through whatever consequences my words might find me in. I can't help but think that the state of my situation might be different if I didn't need the reassurance I am looking for. That things wouldn't be like this if I had the ability to just let go, walk away and breath for a second. Wondering why I was so bad at this, and why the hell do I need so much attention? And then my mind goes back to thinking that I meant what I said, and that waiting silently for things to just go back to the way they were, sucks and feels like shit. The baby Zebra has regained it's place on my chest, and I am doing my best to ignore/live with it. Words are almost always followed by consequences, a lesson I have been taught many times, yet has never seemed to stick. I guess I'll just have to see, and in the mean time try to find a way to live with the Zebra.

First thing tomorrow morning I am going Curling. Yes, Curling. It's for P.E., and I am kind of looking forward to it. It's either Curling or Ice Skating, which I really hate. I lack complete balance.

I am going to go to bed soon, and then I am going to tackle tomorrow, after that? Who knows?

I'm Fun

Time dragged this morning. I mean it felt like hours were disappearing into an abyss of chocolate and cookies. It felt like my shift at work was dragging on for days, nothing bad happened(in fact I got to try out my Dad's Coconut Macaroon recipe and it came out AMAZING), but time just did not want to push forward. After work I headed straight to the gym (it makes me feel good), only to then come home to a message calling me to the other side of town to buy five bags of gummy candy as a present for a co-worker. Time sped up, I had a meal I had already planned to cook, a call to a Carney that I had been wanting to make, and American Gangster to watch. I cooked, I called a Carney, and managed to watch the most recent episode of "Chuck" (I am saving American Gangster for tomorrow: a Friday night filled with, left overs, a movie, and Moritz. Lights out at eight!!).

We have this kid shadowing us at work this week. He's applying to be next year's apprentice, and is going through the joys of a one-week trial. We never have men work with us outside of my Boss (a tactic I recognize from Iceberg Slim's, Pimp), so it was a bit weird to throw a sixteen year old boy into the mix, the poor lamb. From the first moment he introduced himself I knew that this was going to be an interesting week. He is a combination of Napoleon Dynamite and Mika (not Straight-Salzburg Mika, but Famous-Is-He-Gay? Mika). It turns out he's Spanish, and has no future in baking.

Mika Dynamite LOVES America. I know this because it's the first thing he said to me and has been every third sentence in our interactions since. Mika D. has also expressed his yearning to learn "American English," and not the "Ughk! English English" they teach in school. Mika D. loves Hip Hop, Gangster Rap, taking care of his appearance; and hates cold weather and House music. Mika D. also like to tell everyone that "She iz FUN!" You can only imagine that I feel like I have found my long lost son. By the second day, I had asked Mika D. how he was doing. Mika D. grabbed me by the shoulders and said that he wished he could work more with me, that I was someone he could talk to. I thought this was sweet and told him not to worry, and went back to work.

A couple hours later, as I was getting ready to make Lemon Rolls, The Boss' Daughter sent Mika D. over to me so I could explain to him what my final exam is all about. Mika D. didn't really want to know about it though, and instead dove right into complaining how he couldn't relate to my co-workers and how I remind of his mother (we share the same first name). At some point it occurred to me that Mika D. would make an AWESOME receptionist at a hotel. I told him this, and he got very excited. He leaned over to me and said, "I knew you an I would get along." He then started saying how he would love to work in hotel reception and how he loves their nice uniforms. He kept asking if I thought he could come to America to work, I told him if he was in hotels, that yes, he definitely could. He looked so happy, and just kept saying, "You're great, why can't I just work with you?" Good Lord, I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel good, he's a good kid.

I also can't lie and say I don't relate to Mika D. Mika D. has horrible grades, instead of academics Mika D. is interested in the social aspect of things. He is more interested in what he wears and taking the time and pleasure in making himself look nice. He is the 16 year-old me, including that we both like guys (except I don't think he knows it yet). And because of this I feel the need to protect him. He isn't going to get the job, my Boss could never have another man work in the store, it's him, he's "The King," but if you follow along with the blog you know what type of man my boss is. Not the smart type, and definetly not the sensitve type. I think that's what made me tell him to try as a Receptionist, put his people skills to use. You could tell he was so flattered that someone had noticed that about him. I would have felt the exact same way.

Tomorrow is my last day working with Mika D. I wish him the best, and am sure that although people find him a bit weird for his openness and friendliness, he's going to end up going far, or at least happy. Maybe that's just what I wish for myself though. Who knows?

Isn't This Darwinism?

I feel bad about this, but I am not doing to well focusing at the moment, so this is going to have to be a re-post. I went out with someone new tonight, in the effort to try and meet new people, and two Vodka Fizzes later, I am tired and ready to dive under those deep fluffy cover with Moritz and sleep, or at least try.

This re-post is honor of that eight-limbed baby that suffered from a successful surgery today. Get ready to be disgusted, I really am just that bad of a human being.

Nothing like a perfect Vodak Fizz, made be a Belgium, to ease an overly long Wednesday.

My man took the picture, thought it was fitting. Thanks, Lover.


Lucky Babies

Here's something I just don’t get.

I was reading in the paper the other day about a baby born in China with a third arm, and that some sort of special doctor would perform some sort of special surgery, and blah blah blah.

So, I recently moved and because I am hell-bound on making things harder I hand carried quiet a bit of my stuff from my friends house to my new apartment. And let me tell you, if I would have had a third arm I would have saved my self a lot of back pain. I would have been very upset if I was not given the choice to keep my third arm or not.

What is wrong with the world today?! Is this not evolution?! Who are we to take away this baby's arm? Was it not a gift?
If you bought a pair of pants and it came with an extra pocket would you cut it off because it was one too many? I think not.

And wasn't there a mermaid baby somewhere? Again, they performed some sort of miracle surgery to separate the baby's legs. I'm sorry, but do you know how many little girls want to be mermaids? They even have Mermaid Barbie. Does that not say something about little girls aspirations?

Aren't these the new X Men?

Sweet Sweetness

I feel really good right now, better then I have felt in weeks. I don't know if it was the extra fifteen minutes I put into my workout, or the fact that the burn on my face is finally going away, but I just feel right. It's been a while, and I am not sure how long it's going to last, so I am just going to ride this sweet wave as hard and long as I can. I am a firm believer that without bad days you can never fully appreciate the good ones. Can I get an Amen?!!

I just spent the last hour thinking up and drawing out the sandwiches, canapes, and individual desserts I have to make for my final practical exam, better known as the L.A.P. It's tricky because the ideas I come up with are usually things that my Boss and his daughter have never thought of and are therefore too scared to try. So I have been trying to dumb-down my ideas, but am still not to sure how they are going to feel about my Papaya Paradise, or Banana Volcano. The sandwiches and canapes I have come up with are not open to discussion however, I am the ultimate sandwich maker, no one fucks with my sandwiches.

To be honest, I don't have much to write about tonight. I would quickly like to address a comment left on my November 2nd blog, "Missing The Cliche." I love you too, Olivia. Nothing like waking up to a blog comment like that on a Monday morning. Simple, yet perfect. Maybe that's what made today so sweet. Thank you Olivia. Now that's a true Blog reader.

Oh, and as for the picture at the top of the blog, nothing like a bit of Chung to start your week off right. Isn't she a cute pony? I took that picture at the carnival a weekend ago, it makes me smile every time I look at it. Gotta love some Chung.

Seclusion And Cake

At the start of every November since middle school I have gone to bed as early as seven, it's just the way I am. I am not sure if it has to do with Daylight Savings Time or what, all I know is when it gets dark, I get tired, and will most likely be in bed the first chance I get. I like it this way, I need a lot of sleep and frankly, there isn't much else for me to do.

I worked yesterday until ten in the morning, my shift went fine and I was happy to come back to the solitude my apartment affords me. The only problem with solitude? It can get boring fast. I finished the last Harry Potter (shed a few tears in the process) and watched a not so interesting show called "Mad Men," about advertising in the 50's. At twilight I finally ventured from the four walls of my apartment and set out on a walk hoping to burn off some energy and frustration. Unfortunately the walk only made me sad about Skipper's absence, and for the first time brought me to her balcony, which is now occupied by some bitch's laundry (she obviously has no appreciation for the magic it holds). By seven-fifteen lights were out and I was snuggled deep into my feather comforter, Moritz pulled tightly to my chest. How people stay up and go out clubbing at eleven is beyond me.

The good thing about going to sleep early? You get to wake up early! By six o'clock I was seated in my desk chair, finally getting to some emails I had been wanting to send, and by seven I was enjoying a fresh chocolate croissant and coffee I had picked up from work. It might be nice to sleep until nine or ten, but I had already slept eleven hours, and figured that was more then enough.

The only thing on today's agenda was a walk with Frau, which wasn't scheduled until two. What happened between the hours of seven and two I am not too sure. There was a nap, a much needed phone call, a shower, and some pasta, but other then that, my apartment seems to act as some sort of time suck.

My walk with Frau was exactly what I seem to have needed. You can never under estimate a bit of human interaction, something I have very little of outside of work. Frau is going through a break-up at the moment, but was luckily in good spirits (the guy was a royal douche). We walked the back side of the lake this time, something Frau had never done before, and it was beautiful. I love Fall over here, the leaves turn gold and crimson and I get to wear my favorite emerald green coat. It was foggy and gray, but the colors that surrounded us in the small forest where we walked brighten everything around us. We talked about the concept of love and if it is meant for us, about how hard and pointless it is to try and befriend the ever illusive Swiss, and discussed our plans for a Winnebago road trip to The Grand Canyon in the Summer of 2009. After we made our way back to the train station and over the bridge we went and got cake and coffee and discussed the book, Pimp, by Iceberg Slim )Frau having just bought a copy in German at my referral). We then walked home with talk of Volcom and suede handbags and then said out goodbyes.

Overall this weekend has been good yet seclusive. I still have little idea what to do with my time, or better said, myself. Although things have gotten more colorful and sharp since I stopped smoking, time has also slowed and I am at a loss with how to fill it, musicals are the bane of my existence and are therefore not an option, although the suggestion was deeply appreciated.

Missing The Cliche

At the end of august I spent five days in Italy with my classmates. I dreaded the trip and could only bitch about having to go. The funny thing is, it has been all I have been able to think about this week, acting as my "happy thought."

For as much of pain in the ass as it was, me going down there, bunking in a room of 25 teenage girls, wanting to just be back in Luzern, or better said back in California, I only have good feelings when I think back on the experience. Cinque Terre was dirty and frustrating, but the day we spent in Monaco I won't soon forget. The ocean, the weather, just the art of seeing something new, seeing something I never thought I would. My man was also very much in love with me, and things hadn't gotten to the point they are now. Missing someone you love while looking out over a moon lit ocean, well, sometimes it's a beautiful thing to live in a cliche. It also gave me the feeling of doing something, experiencing life, living the life people expect you to while in your twenties and living in Europe.

My life slowed down a lot since then. It's no longer five countries in a week, but working The Grind, and wondering why I feel so lonely. Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's because I am not smoking, maybe it's the state of things with my man and I, maybe it's Skipper's absence, maybe it's just a combination. At the moment I feel very much alone, mainly because I am. I've made my life very small, and have no real interest in making it bigger. The honest truth? I don't have anyone to blame but myself.

I'm not in a funk, I am just putting my time in, waiting for my plane back to California. California. The more and more I think about, if it weren't for my family and friends I wouldn't be all that ready to go back. Not to say that I would want to Switzerland, my time here is up. When I really think about it there is no real place I even want to be, except three miles in to a deep dark wood where there is a small wood cabin waiting for me. It's funny what loneliness and November can do to a person. Ok, maybe funny isn't the right word.

I have to be up at 3:30 am to work the Saturday shift and want to finish my book before I go to bed. Excuse me for writing yet another downer of a blog. I guess I just don't have my marbles straight.