My backpack is my room. I can fit multiple changes of clothes in it and my toothbrush. Wallet is in front zipper compartment. I saw a guy at the library two days ago who has the same pack and I wanted to strike up a conversation, but, as Backpack Sightings usually go... he was walking away from me when I noticed. Out out out the door.

After being in PA, I can now add drinking in a public park to the very short list of illegal things I've done that don't matter because you're expected to anyway. I work very hard at fulfilling this status quo ... of white suburban girls who have gotten drunk before 21, done some pot, shop lifted some things, but none of them to any gross extent. Please, tell me if there's something I've missed. I have nothing else to do this summer.

Except ... except for going back to work, hopping on another air plane, hopping on some busses, and walking the walk instead of talking the talk of "Turning my room into a sanctuary instead of storage space".

Tomorrow I tackle the college and the WC. These are things... Well, I haven't done anything at all in the week that I've been back which closely resembles stuff I did before I left.

I am thankful to the people who "can imagine" what it's like. I am grateful for those who "know what it's like". I am seeing India Lauren tomorrow and I'm really excited. She definitely fits into the latter, but more specifically my latter. She and I can sit down and spit some stuff out that hasn't been said to anyone else. Or maybe hasn't been understood? I don't like that it's not a universal topic, but I relish the bond she and I can share because of that.

It is very cold in here and sitting in sunny spots in green parks was this gringa's dream come true.