Okay, done with the desert, done with this new life. I want to go home. I miss America. I miss my family. I miss my friends being in the same time zone, or at least something close to it. A month ago, I was terrified of this ending. Now, I can't wait for June.
My face is sunburnt. I am so burnt that yesterday the doctor gave me a shot of Demerol and a shot of hydrocortisone and wrote me a prescription for codeine and prednisone. And I am peeling. My face is covered in triple antibiotic ointment right now. I can't leave the house for fear of being rushed off to a leper colony
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In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud, Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.-- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
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I agree with Gail's last post -- I feel like I'm so firmly in the in-between. And of course, looking to the past and future makes me sad. Which isn't to say I won't do it. I probably should. But it's hard
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My computer is broken. I'm typing this on Liz's, which is so ghetto it has to be kept on a three ring binder to keep it from overheating. But then again, it's less ghetto than mine, which has decided that a grey screen and a folder with a question mark is all I want from it
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