One good thing about having to get up to pee all night long is that each time I'm on my way back in, I look up at the sky. I won't be able to see a sky like this one when I get back home. It's so, so dark, almost black, but still blue, so pretty, and thousands of stars. It's so interesting to look at really, I like to see the little clusters the best, and try to count how many are hanging out together. The light from those stars all combines and it makes this fuzzy bright patch in the sky. I haven't seen a single shooting star yet, and I'm surprised. I thought I'd get to be making all these wishes, but I haven't had a single one. One night, I had gotten drunk (on wine of course) because the Scottish kid Jaime had come over to eat my chicken soup. Pepper soup really, I messed up a little. Anyway, after he had gone home, I laid out in the yard and looked at the sky. The grass was wet and cold, but I had my hoodie on so I was cool. I was like, oh beautiful night, I'm being so poetic right now. But I was drunk. And laying down. So the sky kept rocking back and forth and all the stars were just blobs of light. Bobby (the dog) kept sniffing at me and trying to put his arms on me too, so that added to the distraction. Whatever, I just tell myself like I do for everything here that doesn't quite turn out right...I did that in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains. I've also stepped in cow manure barefoot except for pantyhose in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains, and I've gotten belligerently drunk and thrown a temper tantrum in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains, and I've sat in bed for countless hours surfing the web out of incurable boredom in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains. K I should go make coffee or wash my hair or something. I have a whole class today at a quarter to 2.

Creating a blog

So this is what everybody's been doing for the last ten years, huh? Typing some shit into a box and then making it public. I picked the dumbest title ever for my blog, but I'm not good at naming things under pressure. Anyway, I'm sitting here in my chilly wooden room in Merjevi Village, Georgia, counting down the hours til I'm on a plane again, on my way back to my real life. I have to pee, too, but it's like I always have to pee when I'm wrapped in blankets and they've finally warmed from my body heat. I didn't get to sleep last night until about 6 am because I: one, couldn't stop thinking, and two, couldn't stop peeing. I think it's that self-destructive force I keep as a pet that has been influencing my bladder. I didn't keep going to the bathroom all night when it was warm outside, but now that it's nice and cold, I'm up 5 times a night. To the squatter, no less, on the way to which I meet no fewer than three mice and a pregnant rat, and recently I've been imagining I hear low growling out in the darkness of the yard. Or maybe I'm not imagining it. Last night my flashlight lit up a white towel hanging on the line and I almost screamed. I totally thought it was a ghost, like my face and neck got all hot and stuff. I'm Skyping with Samantha E right now, she's a teacher in the next city over. We're talking about writing, and I sent her Tristan's "Backpack" because I love him and my "Death is Not an Option" because I love me. I don't have Brad's "Death is Not an Option" unfortunately. Oh and for anyone who wants to know, we both have stories with the same title because Mama likes to give us topics/titles of stories and have us write what comes to us. It's fun. She writes it on the dry erase board in the kitchen, and we go for it. I love my mom...Anyway, starting to ramble. I'll come back for more of my public diary later.