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søndag, januar 6

It was one of those showers where the streams went everywhere but your body. It also had no walls, but a nice mildewy shower curtain. This family is a normal family. No Rotary affiliation. A daughter to far away to scream at. And a new American girl, with her hip-hoppity Danish that maybe just will drive them up the wall in all her gladness (if they aren't careful).

We sat at the breakfast table, me + mother04, and looked at maps of México. Talked about her daughter. Went over her pictures, all these people from all these countries, humbled by the southernmost state in that beautiful country. My, my, my.

I couldn't get to sleep last night. I laid in bed with this scratchy blue dooner over me (however the fuck you spell that). Sometimes I get logistics stuck in my head. I thought about the short amount of time I had when I got back to try to find a life again. Pointless, though, ain't it. As I have 7 more months left. And right now I am living in a house full of cigarette smoke, orange juice, satellite TV, errrrr... normalcy???

Slamming doors, and being alone again. I have met insane amounts of people here. Some with more staying power than others. But every few days, I am reminded of yet another person that claimed to talk to me. And they say, "You know, Lars Jensen? Mette Christoffersen?" And I just tell them the same thing I always do, "I have met so many people here. Where did I meet them?"

Soon I will be back on schedule. Back to school, and to trying. There are so many things my soul would rather do than go back to school, and get back on schedule. But the winds of exchangee blow me otherwise, and maybe one of those New Year's resolutions was to fight back the thought of continuous waiting, and plow on down through these days, with the fucking "Rotary Plastic Smile!" tucked into the dark pockets, and newfound guts crashing around in my body.

Yes, thanks. Tusind fucking tak to ya'll. And to my receding headache. What a long strange trip it's been.

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