Coming to America

I'll be frank: it fucking sucks to be back. Sorry to my loyal readers (all 5 of you), I've been out of commission for the past week. Went to Antalya (which I'll post about later) and had to do last minute shopping in Istanbul before flying back. And the lovely British Airways, which I'll probably never fly again, lost my suitcase. I finally got it at 1am last night via courier.

It's becoming more common that when I travel, I really dread coming back. I mean, at this point, it could just be b/c I hate my mundane job but that will soon be remedied when I go back to school so why else would I not want to come back home? I usually miss my close friends - hence why I take so many photos and video to share the experiences. I miss my family - I normally call or email everyday. I love my bed - so much that I DREAM about it. I love my neighborhood - the shopping is endless :). More often than not, I crave the ability to complain or report to a higher legitimate authority when I'm dicked over in a restaurant/cab/store/bank or harrassed/stalked or treated unjustly abroad. So why not miss the convenient, comfortable lush life I have in America? Because it's so goddamn repetitive, monotonous and dull. I have had friends who go abroad for months or years and upon return they are astounded by the fact that everything has stayed exactly the same at home in the States.

But then again I only have the opportunity to leave no longer than a couple weeks at a time. Who knows if I'd feel the same if I actually had to live in a foreign country. What else could London, Istanbul, Paris, Nice, Tehran, Isfahan, Madrid, etc. be other than exotic and refreshing, particularly in comparison to American life?

No specific point to this post, just saying. The royal penis is clean, your highness. Let's hear it for my band, Sexual Chocolate.