2/24/11
I can’t stop eating the bag of Trader Joes cheese popcorn. I’m beginning to notice a pattern here. I like Trader Joes. Will I be able to survive in a place where it doesn’t exist? I don’t want to think about that right now. It doesn’t just taste like cheese; it tastes like home. Can it be I miss it already? This elevator music is adding a perfect dramatic effect to my travels. “Un-break my Heart” has never sounded so comforting. My ass is squashed flat on the cold floor, just so I can be close to a plug to energize my electronics. I could use some of that energy. Where is my plug? I like watching the people’s faces as they walk by. Sometimes I wonder if they are questioning how old I am. I might act younger than my age sometimes, but I don’t care – I’m having fun. I think a lot of people have forgotten how to have fun. Sometimes I want to just run up to a random person and start tango-ing with them. But then I run the risk of being put in an insane asylum. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Sometimes bouncing around a heavily padded room is exactly what I need. I keep running around in my head, making sure I packed everything I need. Then my Mami’s words pop into my mind “Die Heimat ist in unseren Herzen” (“Home is where the heart is”). Danke fuer dein Brief Mamichen. Ich hab dich so Lieb.
I feel good. This is right. I don’t want to expect anything from this experience, but I have a feeling that I’m going to get a lot more from it then I bargained for. I think I feel…ya…I think I feel peace.
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