The Beautiful changes in such kind ways.

I have returned from the other side of the pond. I have explored Rome, Florence, Venice, London, Edinburough, York, Oxford, Liverpool, Dublin, Cork, Ireland in general. I have wandered those streets, all by my lonesome. I have wandered them with friends. I have explored the cities as I explore myself. I have come to conclusions and re-conclusions. I have broken away from my parents, probably for good and all. I have broken from the mold that people force upon me. I try to ignore that constant ghost, the shadow of what I should be. She hovers, that unkindly spectre, she hovers over me gently nudging me to become what I am expected to be. At the same time, another spirit hovers over me. She is who I want to be. It is she who also points me in other directions, sometimes the same directions as the spectre. But somewhere between the two I wander, along the rough path I have chosen.

I am watching the school video. It makes me miss the school, because when the idea works, it works so wonderfully. And the school does get into you, under your skin, into your eyes and ears and brain. I actually want to go back, I want to trade Rome stories with people in the caf on a rainy afternoon sipping on tea as I wait for my majors class. I want to walk through campus and say hi to everyone who wanders by and actually know who they are. I want to go back and hear all that music and talk, and the stupid humanities humor, and joke about latin verbs. I mean, who does that? No one but the Thomas Morons. I want to go back and write more for the paper. Teddy'll let me. How does that work always get done? You spend time talking and laughing and watching stupid movies and making crappy jokes and making sugar runs and yet you make the deadlines. It's funny, really.