Hope is hearing the melody of the future. Faith is to dance to it. ~R. Alves

"There's no point to any of this. It's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know... a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle..."

I saw Reality Bites for the first time last night. Now I'm pondering the fate that awaits me. Another year and I too shall stumble through my graduation ceremony. For a worthless degree that gives me no toe-hold in a career.

I have been successful so far in putting off the inevitable. "A year is so far away," I say, as I continue to focus on the here-and-now. But the here-and-now is slowly becoming the future. An amazing time warp that is gradually sucking me in as I realize that I have now only eleven months here. As I realize that I only have so many more classes to take. As I realize that my folks are making plans of what they'll do when I leave.

It's strange how for nearly two years I have fought against calling this place my home. How I kept dreaming of the day I'd move back to the states. Now the thought of picking up my roots (because I now have roots...solidly planted, too, it seems) and moving back--back to a place that will never be the same, back to a place where familiar faces have scattered, back...to something that is not my home--it sometimes terrifies me.

I toy with the idea of just staying here. I love Europe. I love England. I love this little town. But...

If one could just ignore the logistics (such as the fact that I couldn't afford to live on my own here, the exhange rate being terrible and housing costs astronomical)--even if I figured out a way to be able to take care of all those details...would I still want to stay?

Enough of these deep ponderings. As Troy said, it's best to enjoy the minutiae than the massive ulcer-creating worries that seem to swallow you. Or something like that.

So now I'll toy with the idea of moseying upstairs to get dressed, enjoy this surprising day of freedom by being irresponsible and going shopping (fiendishly "forgetting" the heavy load of homework that rests in my backpack), and then look forward to a fun relaxed night out at the local pub with friends and workmates.

But what to do for lunch...mmmmm....a quarter-pounder with cheese sounds mighty tasty...if I can only get there before the lunch-crowd rush...