4. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Gerry.

6. What did you have for breakfast?
Muesli and yogurt

7. Who would you hate to be stuck in a room with?
A dead person.

8. What/who inspires you?
This question is very broad. How bout we break it down a bit?

What inspires me: magnificent, unbelieveable panaromas only found in nature, revolutions, medicine, how wildly different the world can be even though it's all the same planet.

Who inspires me:
My friends and family, Michael Jordan, my Arabic professor, and the old lady who lives in my neighborhood who is the most outgoing, social, flamboyant 80-year-old I have ever seen.

9. What is your middle name?
Ann

10. Beach, City or Country?
City for living, country for vacationing. Although, I'm starting to tip the scales the other way, oddly enough.

11. Favorite ice cream?
I can't eat ice cream.

12. Butter, plain or salted popcorn?
What happened to sugared popcorn, fool?

13. Favorite color?
Blue

14. What kind of car do you drive?
I don't.

15. Favorite sandwich?
Tomato basil bagel with sundried tomato pesto cream cheese and a slice of tomato.

16. What characteristic do you despise?
Hypocrisy and backstabbing in others. Overexcitability in myself.

17. Favorite flower?
Birds of paradise.

18. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go?
I don't know. Besides upcoming planned vacations, on the list are: Syria, Lebanon, Italy, Tanzania, Mozambique, Congo, Burkina Faso, Myanmar, Argentina, and Peru. But you could suggest something else and I'd say, "Ooo... yeah... I totally want to go there." Provided that other place isn't Israel. Not that I have anything against Israel personally, it's just that you can't travel to a bunch of places in the Middle East with the Israeli stamp.

19. What color is your bathroom?
A pleasant blue.

20. Favorite brand of clothing?
Zara. It's the only store that makes pants long enough for me.

21. Where would you retire to?
I cannot answer yet. I haven't been to enough places to know.

22. Favorite day of the week?
Sunday.

23. What did you do for your last birthday?
I don't remember what I did on the specific day. I know Kathy took me out to dinner at some point, though

24. Where were you born?
Nashville TN

25. Favorite sport to watch?
Women's gymnastics, basketball, tennis, and volleyball. I usually catch one of those things once a year. Last year was women's gymnastics. I hope this year is volleyball.

28. What fabric detergent do you use?
The kind that you get out of the machine in the laundromat. Although, next time, I'm going across the street and buying the all-natural kind so that I stop destroying the environment with those toxic detergents running through our laundromat's pipes and into our rivers.

29. Coke or Pepsi?
Diet Coke with a slice of lemon. Although I just heard a terrible story on NPR that's making me think that I will never drink Diet Coke again.

30. Are you a morning person or night owl?
I can go both ways. I prefer morning to night overall, provided I slept enough the night before.

31. What is your shoe size?
11

32. Do you have any pets?
Just plants

33. Shoes or barefoot?
Barefoot when possible.

"So you see, I've been thinking a lot about this. I've been thinking about it and I've decided that I want to go with you to the US. I don't see why I should do web development in Paris. It's in the US that the web has its roots. I'll launch my site here. Then we'll go to the US and market it there. Once both markets are developed and reasonably stable, we can go back to Africa together and run it from there. I don't see this site as being only an American or European thing. I want all of Western Africa to be involved. At base, I want it to be an African site, but I need investors and visitors and technicians and offices from the US and Europe.

You can go back and get your degree - maybe we'll stay four or five years. Then what will you do? What do you want to do? In the last two years, you've done a lot of teaching and you seem to like it. So who will you teach in the US? Do you want to become a professor at a university? You'll just be helping rich people get richer. Why not come with me to Africa and teach people who really need teachers? Why not teach people to read and write? You're good at teaching, and you like people, and people like you. Isn't it better to make a huge difference to people who really need you than to make a small one to people who only sort of do?

And you know, because we'll be running an international site, you won't be far from home. You have to understand that I am Congolese. My home is the Congo. I can go with you for awhile, but my future is not in the US. And I understand the same about you. If you want to live with me in the Congo, I'd understand if you went back to see your family for a few months every year. You wouldn't be as far away as you think.

You don't understand how beautiful it is there. In the West, life is all about stress. We don't need that. We can both have jobs, we'll make a decent living compared to most people there. We can live comfortably, and have a house and go to the ocean and eat from the mango trees in the backyard. It's not all dreamy and perfect, but I'm here in Europe because my family needs money. I can work and help people, and I've been able to get a good education in France. But for me, life here is stressful. People are unhappy.

And plus, when I'm in France or the US, I have to deal with racism on every corner. But in Africa, nobody would ever refuse a job to you because you're white. It could only work to your advantage. Plus, you'll be Madame Nkou. That's a name to be respected..."

I break it off here and remind him about his views on marriage: He's against it. He thinks it's stupid. He will never, ever get married. I need to accept that about him if I want to be with him. If I can't handle being with someone who will never marry, then I might as well just move on now, because there's no point in hoping he'll ever view marriage any differently.

"Yeah, well, people can change. I've thought a lot about that, too."

Speechless, I sit back in my chair for a moment. This is one of those big moments. Mentally, I had been planning on having to end things with The Boy because of geography. I love him but still feel young and like I need to think about career and location and development and tons of other things. Our relationship is complicated by the fact that I can't stay in France forever, or that staying here is extremely difficult in general. Once I decided that I'm not sure how much longer I wanted to fight to stay, I guess I had just thought that our relationship would have to end. Not because I want it to, but because I don't want to sit around and wait for a relationship if I have nothing else going for me.

It's taken me months to admit this to myself. Months for me to determine if I want to stay or go, fight or flee. And with accepting that I've got some tough, tough decisions ahead of me, I guess I also let myself accept that I might have to let go of the best man I've ever been with.

But now here it is. He doesn't want it to end. He's willing to move to another country for me, maybe even marry me if that's what it comes down to. Drop everything he's known for the last twenty years and move to a country where he doesn't even really speak the language so that I can pursue a career.

I had always pictured myself doing all of this alone. What do I do now that he's willing to come along for the ride?

So, I see what he means about pressure. The tables turned in just under ten minutes. Move with me? Marriage? Africa? I don't know what I think of it all... I just don't know. Frankly, I'm just shocked. And I need some time to think about it. A lot of time. And we'll definetly need to talk this through some more.

And so this is what I'm saying: this is the wrong time to start talking about soccer. I know that the Italian interrupted our moment of reflective silence to ask you if you had seen the match the other day, but that's the point where you admit the truth (no, you hadn't seen it) and you even clarify further by saying, "I haven't watched a soccer match since the World Cup." This should shut up the waiter and let us get on with our Very Important Conversation. It would help me digest this rather hefty serving you just gave me. A little bit of clarification, precision, and further discussion would be necessary at this juncture.

But instead, the three men are yelling back in forth about some really great soccer player's goal record. Was his last goal in Argentina or Spain? Because, apparently, that's the really important issue at hand this evening, not the 30,246 things going through my head.

This is a strange thing. The Boy is very into modernity, everything that is slick and clean and streamlined. I'm a little bit more into something that shows its age with grace: a weathered leather notebook to me is far more impressive than a brand new one. I am also a fan of old tables and hand-made chairs.

But I don't know what's going on, but we're falling into step with one another in strange ways. When it was he who suggested we replace the halogen permanently with the calmer light, it sealed it for me. We're melding.

The first shock came when he announced that he only wanted to eat organic produce. This is coming from someone who smokes a pack a day and ate at McDonald's four days a week until I started cooking meals for him. I'm sorry, did you say you wanted to eat natural foods? "Yes," he replied, in all seriousness. "I'm sick of putting crap into my body."

So organic products it is. I've gotten a little carried away, altering my cuisine entirely and stocking the fridge with all new products. I am also going half-vegetarian on his ass, although I doubt he's noticed. I half-expected him to say, "Sweetie, I didn't think you'd take me that seriously," once he saw how much I have altered my regular buys at the supermarket. Instead, yesterday he said, "I saw you bought me organic oatmeal."

"Yeah," I answered, bracing myself for the response I was expecting ("I know we said organic food, but I've been eating Quaker oatmeal all my life, and it's not that bad for me...").

"Great! I didn't know you could find that here! Did you have to go to the organic store or could you find it in the regular supermarket?" he asked, all excited. "I'll try it tomorrow morning."

Along with my general attempts at stress-reduction and healthy living, I've also become a little obsessed with the kinds of products we use to clean our house. Greenpeace has a whole pamphlet about how incredibly toxic home cleaning products are, and how they release toxins into the air without our really being aware of it. Other household fixtures such as linoleum and aluminum siding are also apparently quite toxic, and their chemicals get into our bloodstream and can even be passed onto fetuses in pregnant women. These kinds of pollutants aren't discussed about very much, but I am convinced that we will need to stop using so much bleach in our damn bathtubs and so much Windex on our windows some day soon, or we'll not only destroy the environment, but also ourselves. I figure, I may just be one person, but that's one person less who is destroying our environment day by day. Why not make the effort to cut down - or even cut out - these kinds of household pollutants?

This is the type of rant The Boy would positively laugh at in years past. Why worry about that when there are starving people in the world? Dictators still in Africa? Children working for pennies in India?

But the other day, we sat down and had an entire talk about our cleaning products, garbage bags, and laundry detergent. It was decided that we will use up what we have, but that we will now try to always buy environment-friendly products. We will also use the refill-type of dish soap, so as not to put more and more plastic to waste each time we need more soap. The same goes for anything we can minimize: less waste is better waste.

I never expected him to even see the point in my slightly hippie-leaning ways. I think I actually expected him to laugh at them. But he has totally blown me away with his interest in it all. It's extraordinary. The last three weeks have been an enormous turnaround for the both of us.

So all of this is to come back to the lighting. I feel it's symbolic somehow. I've been listening to a different kind of music (Middle Eastern, African) and have been reading different kinds of books (history, world politics). I can't seem to stop lighting incense, and candles are also becoming more and more important. Pretty soon I'm going to start discussing meditation and buddhism, I can just feel it.

Seriously now, I think this is just a realization that I've had that I can do little things in my life to keep relaxation a priority. And it seems to be working. I'm also healthier and getting better sleep than I have in years. And I am taking an active interest in protecting others while I eat better, cleaner and safer foods.

The lighting is just a part of the overall theme. But I was really surprised when he decided to go for the more mellow lighting in his "office." It really was the kicker.

Of course, the decision required me to go out and buy another 35 euro lamp for the bedroom, but I thought the price was worth it for laid-back lighting and some peace of mind.

After much deliberation at the lamp store, I finally picked out my lamp and headed across the street to the grocery store. I shopped amongst the organic goods for quite awhile, and also picked up some tupperware because I can't believe I have managed to live for so long without it. Once I hit the yoghurt section, a terrible realization hit me: I had left the lamp over in organic goods. And that was at least ten minutes ago.

I'm not kidding, I immediately started taking the fact that I had just lost a 35 euros lamp as a sign that I am doing something wrong. That I was overestimating myself or The Boy or something... that this whole "lighting scheme" idea was a scam and that I could never be the relaxed, organic, recycling type. That yes, I might have been that way when I lived in California, but Santa Cruz had two entire AISLES of organic goods at the supermarket, and then three OTHER supermarkets that were ENTIRELY organic. It was almost easier to go natural than to go synthetic. But here I am in Paris, and it's just not do-able. That I shouldn't trick myself into thinking that I can go back to caring about what I eat, how I eat it, and how I dispose of it. No, I had simply gotten carried away.

I walked around the store saying, "Shit shit shit shit shit" as I maniacally searched for the lamps. Admit it, I said to myself, They're gone. You were so wrong to think that lighting scheme could work, you fool!

Out of desperation, I went up to the information center on the main floor to see if anyone, by any chance, had handed in my lamp to the woman working there.

"Hello," I said, and eyed my bag behind her, "My goodness! Someone returned my lamp! It's in that bag, right there! That's my lamp!" I couldn't believe it. The woman seemed hesitant to hand it over to me (probably because I seemed a little crazed at the time), but after quizzing me on the bag's contents, she let me take it.

My entire faith in my mission and mankind was restored in one kind soul's simple act of civil responsibility. They could have walked away with my lamp, but they handed it in to the grocery store's information lady instead. It was a miracle.

What was not a miracle was my 75 euro organic food and tupperware total at the grocery. Where can one find cheap organic produce in Paris? That's like asking where cocktails are under five euros. I just don't think that exists.

Tangent: has anyone ever had the Chinese red-bean dessert. It's made of red-beans (with a slightly sugary taste) and then sweetened milk, put into a glass. It can't be that simple because it's soooo delicious. Although really, it just looks like they put some red beans in a cup and poured milk in the cup. Anyone know how to make it taste like more than just red beans with milk over it? I want to eat it every day, and I can't go to the restaurant where they serve it because it's too far away. I want to make it at home. Any ideas?

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, find line 4.
"On ne doit pas prononcer la voyelle d'un mot quand on fait la pause (en fin de phrase, par exemple)" from my Arabic grammar book in the introductory chapter.

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you touch first?
Two binders: one with all of my schoolwork from second semester, and the other with all of my Arabic notes.

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
Luckily, I can actually answer this question because I just got back from Marseille, where there was a television. Otherwise, the last time I watched TV was way back in December, and I have no idea what I watched. Anyway, I watched the news last Saturday while waiting for everyone else to get pretty before we went out to dinner.

4. WITHOUT LOOKING, can you guess what the time is?I just looked a little bit ago, so it's somewhere around 12.15 am.

5. Now look at the clock, what is the actual time? Hah! 12.15 exactly!

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear? Some drunk people yelling in the street (laughing or arguing, I can't really tell), cars going by, someone kicking a can, more yelling. I think the yelling person may be who The Boy and I refer to as The Yeller (Le crieur): a local drunk who has a co-drunk and they often stand in front of the lingerie shop in front of my house and yell for the hell of it. Nice guys, but loud.

7. When did you last step outside? What were you doing? I just got back from eating crepes up the street.

8. Before you came to this website, what did you look at? I was at mightygirl.net.

9. What are you wearing? Gray, fucked-up pants, a black v-neck sweater and a black hoodie. The same shit I've been wearing since September 2000. No joke.

10. Did you dream last night? Yes. That I had a baby who kept shitting his diaper.

11. When did you last laugh? At dinner tonight with The Boy.

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in? A big map of the world, a copy of the phonetic alphabet, a framed photo taken by Kathypath, an African wall hanging. That's it.

13. Seen anything weird lately? An 80-year-old (ish) prostitute with bright, easter-egg-colored purple lipstick and dyed blond hair. Her outfit was also very purple.

14. What do you think of this quiz? This is fun.

15. What is the last film you saw? In a movie theater? I just saw Monster this afternoon. On Saturday, The Boy and I watched New Jack City on DVD because S had it at her house.

16. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy first? A trip around the world and tickets for people I love to go to places they've always wanted. I'd meet them there.

17. Can you tell something about you that no one knows? Probably not. Someone is bound to know anything I think of. I don't have any secrets that I can think of.

18. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do? This question is too big for me. I've already answered it and erased my answer three times. I don't know. Food, water, medicine, human rights, environmental protection... all things that matter and aren't getting the attention they deserve.

19. Do you like to dance?
Yes.

20. George Bush: is he a power-crazy nut case or some one who is finally doing something that has needed to be done for years?
What? He is nothing to me. It's his administration we should be talking about. He's just the puppet.

21. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
I have many names. Off the top of my head: I like Nadja and Kezia.

22. Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?Again, I have many names. I recently saw a Russian film where the main character's name was Andreï. I love that.

23. Would you ever consider living abroad?
This question is already answered, so I'll answer it's opposite. Yes, I would consider returning to the United States. I'm considering it right now, actually.

1. I am an official news and radio junkie. Three days without either and I was scratching at the walls, trying to hear the neighbor's broadcast in Arabic. Every coffee I drank out on S's mini-terrace, every time I toasted a piece of bread, I couldn't help but think about how much better this all would be if I could listen to the news in the background. This is a dramatic 180° from a kid who used to bitch and moan every time her Dad put on NPR during family car trips.

2. I can be happy almost anywhere as long as I have sunshine, tea/coffee, good bread, a terrace, and a radio. I had all but the final item in Marseille, but I had good company, so things went fine.

3. Monster is a very good film. I will never watch it again, though.

4. My parenting skills are not what I would have thought. I'm the mellow, let-him-do-handstands-on-the-wall-60-times-if-he-wants-to type. But maybe that's just 'cause I just spent a week with one of the coolest kids on the planet. I've got drawings of his to prove it. Just like last time The Little Guy came to visit, I couldn't get enough of doing the things kids think are fun: jumping off of five-step staircases, competing to see whose wind-up car goes further, beating up The Boy when he farts. I spent a whole week with The Little Guy and I never got tired of him or any of his crazy kid ideas. How many games of Go Fish can your average Jane take? I don't know, but I played at least 60. Scary thing? Most of those were my own suggestion. I am also a Lego fan, a wrestler, and one helluva paper-airplaner.

5. Returning from vacation is a mixed bag. Sometimes it's nice to get back to your own bed, your own kitchen, your own rhythm (and radio). But Christ, do NOT check your mailbox and answering machine before enjoying your home for a bit. Bills, bills, bills. Messages from people wondering why the hell you're not answering your phone. Reminder that you have mad shit to do. Welcome back to real life. Good thing I like my life, and am ok with some of the shit that comes attached to it. What a pain in the ass.

6. I have a crush on the Lebanese restaurant guy. It's been brewing for awhile. Now it's full-on. I hope he reciprocates my love by giving me some free baklava (is that how it's spelled?).

7. I would be happy to live in a smaller place with more sunshine, where the rent is reasonable and I could have a nicer house. It was great to be able to stretch, to have two people in the kitchen at once, and to sit in a bathtub. These are things that one can learn to live without, but man, I repeatedly reveled in the wonder of it all while staying at S's house. What? Four burners on your stove? Are you for real? A seperate office? Really? Closet space? Woo-hoo!

8. I like French pizza better than American pizza. Less grease, less crust, less crap.

9. People in Paris really are more hip than other places. I guess I had just gotten acclimated or something. Every time I leave, I realize what a little fashion bubble this city is. Sometimes it's good to get to normal people again, but I always feel relieved to get back to the city where I'm just an anonymous face in a sea of more-fashionable-than-me bodies.

10. Don't push my buttons. I'll react by just shutting down. It's easier on everyone that way.

My sister and I work on a project together. She has finished her part. I still had a good portion of mine left because I am regulated by the library as to how many files I can consult daily. They only allow 10 files per day, per person.

I hired on a friend to go occasionally with or without me, but she headed out of town this week and couldn't lend a hand. The Boy and I wanted to leave on vacation together by Monday, but I couldn't possibly leave without having finished my job first. With over 60 files left, it would be impossible to get them done in time. I told him at the beginning of the week that I wouldn't be able to go with him and his son to Marseille, and that I would have to catch a later train - in the middle of the week - and catch up with the two of them halfway through their vacation.

Instead, The Boy decided to go with me, every day this week, to the library to pull ten files of his own and help me make photocopies. And although I can't stand the fact that he doesn't know how to make proper photocopies, or that he has to talk whenever he's doing boring, semi-manual labor ("Ok... so now I have file number 0225, for 1997... oh... file 0376, 1999. Oops, there it is again, 2001..."), I have to admit that he's given me a major hand in all of this.

Today, at the end of our researching foray, I turned to him and said, "I don't know how to make this up to you. Technically, you've worked 8 hours, which entitles you to 160 euros. Do you want me to pay you? That seems silly. What can I do to repay you for what you've done for me?"

He looked at me and said, "I just wanted you to come on vacation with me. That's all. So you can repay me by being on the train with me and The Little Guy on Monday. I just want you to be with me."

Christ Almightly, my heart almost turned to goo right then and there. Could you be any better of a man?

The rest of the day was zoo-ish, but fucking brilliant:

16.10 Leave The Boy and head out to buy birthday presents and so on.

16.43, Realize I have spent more money than is in my bank account and that I have to refer to my French account as a back-up source. Birthday presents get put on the credit card.

17.00 Head to the bank to ask them where the hell my checkbook is that I ordered a month ago. Meanwhile, I pull out all the cash I'll need for the next few days. As I plan on spending the next 72 hours in front of a computer, I pull enough to last me a week in Marseille with a seven-year-old and the man I love.

17.25 I run into Pennsylvania Boy and Kimbo in the bank. "What the hell are you doing here?" and so on are discussed until we decide on dinner for 9 days from now. I love them both dearly. Such a random encounter, but so fabulous at the same time. Pennsylvania Boy is wearing the scarf that the Palestinians gave him. Kimbo is wearing a great red hat. They came to the bank during their 5-minute coffee break during their 2-hour seminar. What luck to have run into them.

17.45 Jump out of the metro at Chatelet in order to see a 17.55 showing of Viva L'Algerie at Les Halles with Kathypath and The Cameleon. I announce that I will most certainly buy the soundtrack. I also find out The Cameleon will spend four months in Korea next year. Whoa.

20.30 Walk out of movie theater and get drink. Talk about Korea.

21.15 Kathypath and I set out for her birthday dinner. We are only three weeks late in the celebration, but have both been so busy that we have never found a common time to do the necessary celebration. We walk up to the Chatelet station which has been entirely shut down. It is pouring rain and cold outside. We walk to a bus stop only to realize that that particular line has stopped running. We walk more in the rain to another metro stop and finally head to our destination.

21.50 We arrive cold, wet and shivering at the restaurant of our choice. We are given a seat just under the heatlamp on the terrace. Absolute perfection. My clothes are dry within minutes. We have a glass of champagne.

21.50-1.00 Eat, drink, gab. Kathypath and I spend an evening reminiscing. I feel there is nothing better than sharing an amazing meal with an even more amazing friend. Both of us are wrapped up in nostalgia. It's that kind of evening. I'm dangerously on the verge of tears of joy.

1.00-2.00 The night is young and we head to the neighborhood cafe for after-dinner amarettos. This is life.

2.00-2.30 We drunkenly stumble to our respective homes while accompanying one another on our cell phones throughout the entire walk (in opposite directions). Seperation proved difficult this evening. I'm reminded of how lucky I am to have a true friend, who I trust 100% and who knows me through and through (and still thinks I'm alright). She's the best. And is a real smart cookie.

2.30 I walk into my house and The Boy celebrates my arrival. I kiss him and thank God I can come home to someone so wonderful each night. I am truly blessed. I thank him again for what he has done for me throughout the week. He says, "Baby. I just wanted to help you. I'm glad I made you happy."

Life is good. It started out shitty, but good friends can go a long way. Sometimes I wonder what I did to be so lucky.

Throughout the inner monologue, I continously tried shifting so as to block his access to my body. That's not an easy task when your metro car is so packed that you actually rode between two stations with your bag still partly out the door because you couldn't fit it in.

The last frotteur encounter, granted, was worse. That time was on a bus. The frotteur litterally caged me between his two arms and took advantage of the crowded bus to slam me against a poll with his body and grind away. This time, I think the guy at least felt guilty about what he was doing, and thus was trying to keep his hand from straying despite the other part of his brain that was apparently urging him to let it do so. Luckily, just when I was 100% sure of what exactly was going on, it was my stop. I was so happy to get off that train.

Still. How are you supposed to react in that sort of situation? I could call him on it, but he has the really valid defense of being on a crowded bus. Saying something to the effect of, "Mademoiselle, we're all crowded in here and are too close for comfort. I'm sorry, but where can I go?" To a normal Parisian, that might make perfect sense. To anybody who has not been frotted before, that seems feasible. It would seem especially valid because the frotteur in question was actually a well-dressed business-type with wire-rimmed classes and a nice briefcase. Were he to answer in that manner, with everyone listening and staring, I would turn red and my tongue would twist all over itself, and even if I knew I was right I would start to wonder if I had been wrong.

It's just a gross feeling. A helpless and ugly feeling. These frotteurs do this because they know they can get away with it. Everyone's standing close, they get off on standing super-close to certain people. I felt disgusting when I got off the train. My only condelence, unfortunately, was that my friend who had been on the train with me had experienced a similar situation just a week prior. That shouldn't be comforting, really, but it was.

Blech.

I've never really minded not having a lot of friends. I usually have two or three really close friends, and then peripherals. And while, sure, maybe that's still the case, I feel that my "peripherals" need to be upgraded. What would be a better, more high-status name for them? Because, really, I've met some pretty cool people this year and hope to keep them all as friends in the future.

It's sort of strange to look back and realize that you didn't have something that you have now. Mostly, it's just cool to rediscover that my social skills don't totally suck ass, and that I can actually get by when meeting new people.

One of my good friends did a tarot reading for me over a year ago and said that 2004 would be the year of learning. She said, "Not necessarily in the book sense, although it can be that, too. Mainly, this is a year focused on learning more about yourself and your surroundings. A student of life, of sorts." Between a new, difficult school, a new, intense job, and a bunch of new friends, she couldn't be more dead on. I'm learning so much about myself and others that sometimes I wonder how I spent my previous years. Was I lazy? Unaware? Or did I just not have the opportunities I've had this year? Why are so many good changes happening at once? Is there a bad moon on the rise?

I'll stop being paranoid and take the good weather while I can.

One more good thing: comments are working again.