How do I feel?

It's incredibly strange being totally disconnected from everything. I certainly thought I'd miss my old life a hell of a lot more than I do. Because I honestly don't miss it at all.

I feel so calm.

In other news, I'm loading up my dad's SUV this morning with all that is left of my personal possessions and preparing to make the long drive to New York City. My apartment is there waiting for me and I could hardly sleep last night due to how excited I am to arrive. I guess part of me always thought I may return to Florida, but now I can honestly say that ain't happening. So, you know, see ya St. Pete. It's been grand.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

My pictures are up on my flickr now: flickr.com/pammy_pam

Still recovering. Starting next week I begin the search for my new apartment and squaring away things for school. I plan on sitting down shortly to outline some of the better stories from my last weeks abroad, as well as current unfolding events as I assimilate to the big apple. Stay tuned.

Home Now.

I am back now. I ran out of money a week before my return to the states. I'd like to say that being homeless, broke and alone in Paris was romantic and added a certain layer of depth to my traveling experience. More likely though, it simply added a layer of dirt and a level of exhaustion that will surely seem more nostalgic once I've received a weeks worth of rest, a hot bath, a pedicure and a deep tissue massage. But, I survived. And survival is, after all, entirely the point. Henry Miller would be so proud.

In case you were wondering, the cold marble floor of Charles De Gaulle International isn't a particularly comfortable place to sleep. Standing in a phone booth outside of the Piere Lachaise cemetery on the phone with my mother, she told me about how as a child, just when she had turned her back for a second, I would be playing chicken in the middle of the highway with the cars. She feels like I am living my life in that same manner 20 something years later. So be it. It's strange when you realize how much you are the same person you were when you were young. Same plot, different characters. I gather you've plenty of evidence of my character at this point to view me as a mischievous child playing in the street.

I will be posting all my pictures and telling some back stories which include my ability to cook frozen pizza with a hair dryer among other interesting tid bits.

xo

barcelona

Was amazing. I bathed topless, swam in the medditerian, drank bottles and bottles of cheap sangria and soothed my restless heart. The sky is bigger in Spain. The sun is dryer, and all in all, this was exactly what I needed.

I fly to Paris in the morning. This is my last week, and although the trip was entirely not what I imagined, it was entirely perfect. I feel so, so something I haven´t felt yet. Something like assurance. Something like somehow, I am somewhat more who I never knew, I always was.

NYC on the 30th.

xoxo

My Last Day in Ireland

Life is so strange. Same plot, different characters. So, when you don't know what else to do. And the only thing you really know, is that you are in no place to make decisions for your self. Then you get your ass on a plane out of town and hope for the best. Hope for warmer weather and expect darker spirits.

Here's to my holiday in Spain.

I choose Dublin on a whim, because it was cheap to fly to and, well, the Irish like to drink even more than I do, so it seemed logical. I liked the city instantly. Not for any reason I can put into words, but I did. After a few days, I was out of my comfort zone, and slowly learning how to deal. It takes a while to learn how to be. How to be quite, and how to be loud. But slowly I began to feel more myself that I'd ever felt before, and more aware of my self. Like I could see the future. And that the future was good.

So, I got comfortable drinking in pubs alone. Got comfortable with drinking Jameson on the rocks, because it was cheaper than Old Fashioneds. Got comfortable making five minute friends. And so I
wandered into the Sheeban. It was during the day, and the bartender and I hit it off instantly. She adopted me and introduced me to all her friends. It was two days later that I was sitting in a pub on St. George's street when he sat down next to me. And so, in the rare moments I am so intensely aware of what I want, I go after it with unabashed integrity. And so I went after it. With there being no option but, well, to succeed.

And he asked, "Do you always get what you want?" As he was walking me home. And I replied,
"Yes." ; "So be it." He said.

We had the most unassuming and easy, good conversation of my life. But then, nothing. Nothing
until I ran into him at Hogans. A couple days later. When he told me we would have coffee, and he kissed my cheek. And I went home drenched in a school girl crush. When I saw him at the Bartender's wedding later on that week, he alluded to all sorts of complications, and did his best to exude an air of distance. Something like hesitation.Something I can't explain. All this about
someone that I've only known for ten days.