post office

As this afternoon turns into this evening here in Germany, I find myself asking 1 question- why me!?! I came here for the summer and have since decided to stay and work here in Germany. My family has been very supportive with everything, and a couple of weeks ago even packed some of my fall/winter attire to me.

read more

Sorry I haven't been around much this week. I have been so busy! I have been selling a lot on ebay recently, and I ended up going to the post office almost every day. I actually still have to make one more trip there in about an hour. Then I should be done for a while.

One of my friends is having a yard sale, and I've gone two days to help her out a little. She is literally selling 75% of her furniture and decor, hoping to make enough to completely redecorate her house. The sale has been huge, and she's been busy. To top it all off, she's had an 8 month old to take care of the entire time. See why she needed some help?

read more

Telling me that your world is far from mine made me want to share a picture of where I am right now, well dear facade, yeah facade, thats how everything is, add another dose of disillusion then maybe you'll get an abstract portrait of me. I thought i came thru but as I expected, I did not, something is pulling me to give it company for a longer period of time, its not monstrous but it is afraid to be left behind.

read more

[b]I went to the United States post office today. I had my mail forwarded to the main office here in Hemet rather than having my mail forwarded to the in-laws house. "Why?" you may ask. Well, I subscribe to some rather...male-oriented magazines. No porn. No Playboy. No Playgirl. Nothing like that. Just the soft stuff...Maxim, FHM, Stuff, Rolling Stone. It would be quite the controversy if these items showed up in Diana's mom's mailbox with my name on them.

read more

Ah, here I am… My first day of summer vacation, bright sun, blue sky, a warm gentle breeze. Wait, that’s some chick on a magazine cover. I’m the one standing in a line of 15+ people in a tiny dilapidated building with no air conditioning, which somehow serves as a post office for the city of Vincennes in France.

There are no computers, none of the self-service machines work, and there are only two unhappy employees glaring from beneath dripping brows. The room is so small that strangers occasionally brush their sweaty bodies against me. A tall African guy touches my derriere more than once. I doubt it’s a complete accident.

read more