Today marks 8 weeks since I've left home.

It's so strange to strip yourself of everything familiar, all the structures, routines, friends and family that have propped me up since forever. You behave according to or in spite of what all these parts expect of you; now that all stuff's been left behind I feel accountable to nothing, save for maybe the German Foreigner's Office. I feel like jello, un-molded. So what's that jello about, anyway? I'm figuring it out.

I can't lie, I've been daydreaming of hot Alberta breezes and patio beers with friends. I'm not sure that this is homesickness (yet) but odds are good that I miss you.

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CHEAP WORKTABLE NEEDED. I'm on my hands and knees on the floor when I draw and paint. Also, all my papers, books and random shit from the day winds up on my bed, and sometimes I'm just a little too tired to move the pile of stuff somewhere else (the floor). So I sleep with it. Real life. I'm sorry mom.