Hi. I'm back. I tore myself away from Sydney, kicking and screaming, and have returned to the US of A. Ironically enough, on this great American holiday, I am most grateful for my year away from the States. Now, before you roll your eyes and call me an unpatriotic bitch, let me just say this past year was one of the best of my life. But mainly because it allowed me to say goodbye to the familiar, jump out of the sky, ride elephants, and return to friends and family who did not forget about me even though I abandoned them for tanned alcoholics who don't pronounce their R's. I have friends for life here, and if I ever doubted that before, I know that now.
That being said, my goal in going to Australia was to "write a book". And I have to say, every time someone asks me "How's that book going?" it makes me cringe. Because before, when I lived in Sydney, I could say "I'm too busy living it to write about it!" or "My writing teacher says you can't write the beginning until you know the end!" But now, I got nothin'.
My friend Andy, in a show of obvious faith that I would actually write the book I kept talking about, showed me this video last January. I laughed at him, told him that was insulting, and said "As soon as I get back I really am writing it!" But now, as I blog instead of working on my outline that I told my writing teacher I would turn in to her before our meeting next week, I wonder, "Will this book ever get done?"
I certainly hope so, but I don't know that I'd recommend betting on it. In the meantime, please refrain from asking me about the g-damn book. And be comfortable with the knowledge that I haven't completely changed. I still prioritize chocolate, whiskey and procrastination.
Oh and my grandpa joined Facebook. Consider yourself fully updated on my life.