Home is where the something is

Hi friends,

I made it back to South Portland, MAINE (!) on Tuesday night, after a horrible day of travel. When did it become socially acceptable to treat people terribly in airports and planes? Nearly every person I interacted with was curt or behaved like it was an enormous inconvenience to speak to me. And I'm polite: I smile, say thank you, even when the security guards are rifling through my underwear. Maybe people assume that they can walk over me because I'm young, female, or flying coach, or maybe there is simply a culture of rudeness surrounding air travel. Needless to say, I just about lost it when I finally met my mom in Boston.

However, things could only get better from there! It is good to be home, although I wish I had something to do other than watch YouTube videos and eat Oreos and string cheese. (Honestly, thank god string cheese came back into my life. I haven't had that stuff since I was in the fourth grade but, for some unexplicable reason, there is now heaps of it in our fridge.) It would be nice to have a reason to get dressed in the morning, for example, as opposed to sitting around in my pajamas, like I did today. But Wednesday I got to recover from jet lag after "naturally" waking up at 6 am -- didn't feel natural to me -- and yesterday I baked myself at the beach and am sufficiently sunburned today to recall our trip to Florida. Thought of Hannah's skeptical looks when I promised her that it would turn into a tan soon enough. I'm not sure it ever did, so Hannah you might have been right all along.

Anyway, I'm half-heartedly hunting for a part-time job to tie me over until the real-life job starts. Unfortunately, I don't know how to put together a resume for a waitressing job, despite previous waitressing experience. And I don't think there's a section for food and beverage service on the Career Center's website. I might end up chasing after bratty kids that "summer" in Maine (summer should not be a verb) or escaping to Nova Scotia with Monty instead. After mindlessly cleaning out years' worth of crap in my bedroom today, I am already feeling the need to abscond. (Although the cleaning process is somewhat interesting, as it reveals layers of past Destry Sibley identities that seem to have disappeared. Where is the Destry, for example, that once lined her window sill with toy VW bugs? Or owned a velvety black back pack? Does she still exist? Obviously I hope not.)

LUCKILY, I get to fly off to Connecticut this weekend with many of you wonderful people, which I am very excited about!!!!! Yes!

looooove,
Destry