I'm starting to think that the posting frequency around here is a sign that maybe, maaaybe I should drop this blog thing. The mission at the outset, some rambly freshman-in-college crap about self-discovery, remains unaccomplished. It's a good bitching post and occasional place to stretch my writerly muscles, but it's not exactly topping the priority list.
Anyway. I'm in England. Tomorrow, I'll journey from the sleepy little burg of Norwich to the Big City. Life is generally good, but I still feel bad sometimes. That sounds oversimplified, but when ya gots depression, ya gots depression. But a lot of things counteract that. My flatmates, my friends in any part of the world, the fact that I'm writing again, the fact that I might not have to pay tuition this term, Achewood, chocolate in abundance, good ales, adventures. If I wallow in self-pity, I know I'll regret it looking back on this whole excursion. Sure, Norwich is boring at times and the weather sucks and sometimes I feel like shit, but...you know. Optimism and all.
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