Jan. 11th, 2017

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Germany is very open. It tells you what it really thinks of you, it tells dirty jokes, it blows it's nose at the table, and it doesn't wear a bathing suit at the pool. I still haven't embraced the nose thing (tissues are for private time), but my dinner conversation has gotten more boisterous, and I did sit all exposed in a steamy room covered in salt and then jump in a frigid lake.



Above are some photos of my little house. For the past couple years I've mostly owned only what could fit in two suitcases. Now I'm down to one and a tote bag. Alright, you might say, then why have two packs of cards? Don't you need to conserve space? Actually, one of my 3 packs of cards is not shown here. Having few things has not stopped me from keeping a really gratuitous amount of unnecessary randoms.

This state of being constantly un-settled-down has led me to think a lot on the concept of home. I've always liked having space that is entirely my own - I want feel like my living quarters reflect my self, like they are unarguably belonging to me. Feeling at home is important to me, but I've evolved since I started living alone. I've called many places home - a mountain house full of roommates, the alcove under a friend's bed, a suite in Vancouver, half a tiny bedroom in a garage in Alberta, a Winnebago in Florida, a barn on the coast. I'm good at making myself at home.

I finished The Martian today: it was interesting. I love stories of solitary survival. Probably because I'm a little weirdly jealous. I have this theory that if I was stranded in the woods I would do a pretty ok job or die happy, whichever.

My roomie and I have also been watching Modern Family to excess. I cried when Gloria and Haley left Phil to do his presentation alone. It was really important to him, and I wanted them to support him.

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