Ok, well here's some new content:
My lips are chapped and raw from the cold and I look like Goldie Hawn circa...um never, because she always looks awesome and I don't. Actually, my lips more closely resemble Heath Ledger's Psoriasis smile as the Joker (I saw The Dark Knight, and I was not that impressed. Blah, give me the over-stylized, hypercolored streets of 1990's Gotham anyday).
Time home was nice, I got a lot of work done and went to my sister's local bar and drank my weight in watered down whiskey cokes. I saw my grandma which was heart-wrenching and difficult to talk (or write) about. She is getting better though.
I rode first class back to Europe thanks to a lovely US Airways employee named Anne. On the flight I acted totally Caligula, eating, drinking and otherwise consuming everything that was offered to me. Those airline slippers do not go down easily let me tell you.
*I did however, spill a Mimosa all over the seat next to me within 10 minutes of boarding the plane, which really didn't help the refined, potential D-list celebrity image I was trying to cultivate.
I feel unjustifiably enlightened after reading the Kite Runner, re-reading Persepolis, watching House of Saddam and talking for 15 minutes to an Iranian political refugee slash cab driver. We're all the same inside! I can solve the middle-east situation McGyver style with a heart-shaped blowpop, chestbumps and an issue of O Magazine.
I'm re-reading the Canterbury Tales now as research for my, as yet, unrealized graphic novel.
My class didn't show up today and I woke up at 6 in the morning for it. Blurg!
It is fucking, fucking cold and to be honest, I am seriously suffering from a prolonged seasonal case-of-the-Mondays. I hadn't really missed Texas since I left, (the people yes, the place no) but recently I have begun fantasizing about drinking Mexican Martinis on porches and other warm-weather related activities.
It's really fucking with my self-image. I always envisioned myself as a black-clad, east-coast, rainy type of lady, but somewhere along the line I became an arid, hawaiian shirted lothario.