thoughts derived while apartment hunting

-Is it normal to visit another college, particularly one you’ll soon attend, and see people who look identical to “that one guy/girl” you knew at your own/past college?

-Damn it all, I’m really getting into Country Music. Country Music should always be capitalized because it can be so damn fun. I guess it really is acceptable in some (southern) cultures to have whiskey for breakfast.

-I will absolutely, without reservation, take hot and humid weather over snow and bone-chilling temperatures any day.

-The longest, most difficult path to a new friendship is through a bruised ego. The quickest is owning a puppy.

-I fear that airlines that offer wi-fi midflight are a coming sign of the apocalypse.

-Lugging a washer and dryer set up three flights of stairs seems like an activity reserved for a certain circle of hell.

-“No rest for the wicked” truly is a lesson for the quick-witted teenage survivors in any horror movie, particularly for the moment at the end when they’re gazing in awe at the monster they’ve supposedly just slain. Trust me, it’s just a fucked up game of peek-a-boo. Best be runnin’.

-I get bored on airplanes. That last bit explains that nicely.

monday

It rained this morning. It rained this morning and I'm at Java's, drinking coffee, reading travel blogs and cracking open a new book. Around 11 it got better and the sun came out; the inside of my car is an oven but the air is still cool and comfortable for the most part.

This new book takes place in Vietnam, and between that and the travel blogs I'm feeling this feeling somewhere between "you're missing out on something big" and "what's the difference between wasting time and spending it?"

I'm restless. Last year I was on the Noordam, in Europe, in Spain and Italy and everywhere I swore I'd see with the job. This realization was a cold slap a few weeks ago when I looked at a calendar and realized that exactly one year ago today I was in Lisbon with the elegant sidewalk designs and bandoneon players on the street. I know that I'm spoiled in that sense, but it is what it is, and I'm grateful and unapologetic about it. I'd give anything to peer down that one corner in Barcelona or go back to that one place in Mallorca. I'd get as lost as I could in Santorini and climb that fucking monster hill again for that restaurant in Florence.

But, really, I'm debating the difference between wasting time and spending it.