I dreamt about my truck last night. My old giant b&w checkered one. This is suppose to stand as symbol of strength and power in my dreams, and I was driving it. However... some 20 hours later, I feel defeated. Defeated about what? I suppose whatever I was feeling powerful about before - whatever that was!! I'm not sure. I think it's just the monthly hypocamus alter - PMS. I know, nobody knows what I'm talking about - good, I guess:-@

I've come home, I'm tired, I'm so ready for bed, when...!... forgot I need to hang the laundry. That coupled with the fighting, loud mouthed, music blasting Romanians downstairs... I'm totally irritated, and no way can I sleep. I'm here for loud mouthed Spaniards talking over late dinner and keeping me awake at night... not to feel like I'm back in Eastern Europe.

On the +++ front, sorta... talked with Cindy this morning, and she remembered not making many friends out here either. Also, the weird atmosphere at the school. That makes her, me, Nancy, Isabell, at first mention, comrades in arms... having a shitty time making friends when once it seemed so easy.

How weird... trying not to make my blog "too personal." Right, it's a blog, not a diary. However, I am finding posts like this therapeutic... and it is only my friends... people who know me well, who have been steered here.

Sigh.