I like, no, I love to write. But my life simply isn't as interesting as it's been for the last eight months. Judging from the stats, not everyone who reads this is an American. (Although I have learned South Americans take offense to this, what else do you call us? United Statesers?)
Still looking for a job, though I might have found one. Last night I went to a pottery class and my hands remembered all of the bad habits. A few bowls came out but it was pretty frustrating to feel like after two semesters and being offered the managerial position of the ceramic studio I need to re-learn the correct way. If not, I'll have all the dessert bowls I'll ever need. It has been three years since I've sat at a wheel.
These days I take my dog for a walk now and then, try my hand at cooking (and usually fail), visit friends in the city, vacuum, and try to figure out RIT's system so I know when I'll be graduating. Such a process.
Tomorrow I'll be driving 10 hours to Chicago to see Angela and stay with her until Sunday. I wish everyone in the world had Angela in their life because I don't think anybody could ever forget her. She's unforgettable. Angela and I met three years ago on our first trip to Tanzania. One simply should not live in a tent with people for three months and experience the "I can't believe this is happening right now! TIA!" moments without having friends for life. Somebody has to remember when the choo collapsed on Megs or waking up in a Maasai land to find yourselves camped in a floodplain where savannah had been the night before. Or the rat in the jumba roof that ate Moby Dick. And the first time we saw zebras and were informed the rabbit-sized deer is called a dik-dik.
So I'm going to see her :)