I know I still haven't called or spoken most of you, and for that I am sorry. I've been back for nearly a month, and I am in a weird head space where I am not sure how I feel about being home, but the events of this past summer seem long past and entirely surreal at the same time. I keep thinking of Tunisia especially and the whole ordeal in general (I'm in a Spanish medieval literature class where we look at some Arabic translations, and I keep correcting my teacher on some word meanings...) and am saddened by the unnecessary stresses of day to day life here that no matter what I do, I can't seem to get away from. And I am damn tired of talking about my trip to people (which is why I haven't returned your calls, Granny).
Here, in a few short scenes, are my experiences since Sept. 17th:
After a few hours of panic as to how exactly I would make it from airport to the next, I spent the night in Heathrow on a metal chair by the automatic door, freezing and uncomfortable.
The first few nights I was back, I woke up at strange hours completely startled to be where I was and in such darkness. On one such occasion, I thought Loki was a rabid Tunisian dog, come to lick my face into disease ridden oblivion.
I desperately wanted to call someone a gazelle.
I started coaching cross country the first day I was back, with the worst headache imaginable. Since then, I've been running a bit more. Today we had 400's.
This blog will be dedicated to DXarts in the very near future.
sayonara. ciao. adios. au revoir.
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