There's no one I met whilst traveling who had to hesitate after I asked them, "what's the first thing you're going to eat when you get home?" The answer is always different, or not if you're form New York as well, but there's always an answer. No one's completely separated from home, and getting home was nice. it was weird. the Television freaked me out, and having a computer is still bizarre. Also internet? anywhere? I don't have to sneak into restaurants with wifi to find their passwords first? absurd. SMS? holy sms. I forgot that phones were used for calling people and texting people.
It's quick, the hot shower takes ages, using condition seems foreign, and it's impossible to peel yourself out of a finally comfortable bed, but at first, being home is like being given all the things that you forgot you haven't had. Jeans? I wore jeans the first day I was home… Now i'm back in my horrific harem pants, but dressing like a real person for a hot minute was super nice…. having choices, more than blue shirt or white shirt, is weird. I'm still not sure how ready I am to act appropriately, and reckon I'll talk to people in line at the grocery store about nothing, just out of habit, but it is strange being home.
After only two days home I'm already heading back to uni, and I'm scared, and kind of depressed. Not looking forward to real work nor to the monotony associated. Soon enough though it'll gel together, and until then I'll just have to get my shit together so a future trip can be possible.
I'm not sure how much I'll use this blog from now on, but It'll definitely be my wee journal to visit in 6 weeks, 6 months, 6 years. Thanks for reading if you somehow made your way through my novel.
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