7:03 p. m. » No Home.

For a week I've found myself suffering a nasty, deep lung cough, and being that certain choices I made last weekend did nothing to relieve me of this, I found it glaringly necessary to visit the pharmacist for a remedy, which, despite my having no prescription, ended up being a not so smallish lot of capsules containing 500mg of Amoxicillin with some other something -- offered and given to me without hesitation. SPAIN. I should mention that my cough is presently worse than beforehand. There's no segue here, but I'd like to tell that I've begun meeting in private with one of my teachers, one who resembles this Spanish freak pop/dance star, to teach her English in exchange for being taught Catalan. The latter of said languages is, to me, nothing more than a headache, nor are the logistics involved in my learning it, and though I haven't a clue as to why I decided to involve myself with this, I'm hoping to find the reason in doing so. Then again, I might assume the motivation was influenced by a my pathetically clinging onto any and every morsel of culture or souvenir to which I am able, and, yes, maybe I'm not wrong -- the countdown has begun. It's desperation maybe, but I'm now prepared to admit it: I've fallen in love with Barcelona. I've found a harboring that comforts, and I'm (despite living arrangements packaged with my being treated worse than I'd even been) happy, too so, in fact, to concentrate on moving task #3 to a higher priority -- get a job or get married (#1 and #2, Castellano and Catalan respectively). Last weekend witnessed my first proper culture shock, though the shock of the culture shock was the most affective blow, to date, thanks to a three day visit (enjoy) to the city of London. Of course I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Charles (thanks for the drugs, HI MOM) and the couple other British friends I'd made here (not to mention with the woman on the tube whose tooth, which was replaced in her gums after being freely offered to Charles, fell out onto the floor of the train, in midst of insulting and threatening us -- oh and by the way my having to, against her pleas, abandon a begging, crying Serena was more or less completely traumatizing), but the overcast sky, the drop in looks ratio, the heavy food, and the obvious energy that so much of the youth spend on appearance brought me more than halfway to the USA, somewhere, five weeks before my impending return, I wasn't exactly looking to see mirrored -- this, mind you, doesn't even mention the incomprehensible awkwardness and uncomfort my habitude couldn't avoid forcing upon me while trying to speak English during common, routine transactions. (Take a breath) however, seeing as my problem is, after all, my habituality to adapt TOO easily -- no matter what my path sees happen, all will be fine enough.

Now I'd like to demonstrate the thinking of the culture into which I will soon not be able to help but reinstate myself. Charles called it a relic -- and so I had to buy it.

My syntax is absolutely fucked.

 10:38 p. m. »  Sleep Out

Hey D - so, I met a few more of your sisters over Halloween weekend in Madison and I just have to say....kudos to your parents. S.I.L.V.E.R.M.A.N. must be a codename for a secret genetic project to bring beautiful girls (and 1 boy ((don't get your hopes up))) into this world.

WAY TO GO BEAUTY GENES!!!!!!!!!!

p.s. come back and move to Chicago.