I love my life.

I have been a full time student since Autumn 2010. I discovered my true nerdness at 33 years old when I entered college, sat up front raising my hand eagerly to join the conversation, and furiously reading articles to support my weird arguments. I remembered that I enjoyed learning up until I was about eight years old, when my life got complicated. With this memory in mind, I have been enjoying the luxury of student life all over again.

Because of my student status, I was able to spend my winter break exploring the state of Yucatan in Mexico. I got to visit with one of my four loving foster families with whom I credit a great deal of my sanity and resilience to nowadays. I also crossed the country, and stayed on for most of my winter semester, completing my classes in hammocks and tranquility. My hitherto in-semester stress-compromised health issues did not even hint at existence for the first time since school began. I was calm, breathing deeply, focused for the most part, glowing, vital, and kept all the skin that belongs on my fingers. I was happy.

I got home and shared some stories I'd written with friends. They asked for more. I could hand over my journal, but they have convinced me this is better. I'm not sure...but.
When I was a teenage hobo, I used to write out all my stories in these spiral bound Hilroy, 80 page books. I would glue in pictures and collages, then pass them around to my friends whenever I returned home so I could share my adventures with them. Until this trip to Mexico, I hadn't written anything for myself in so long. My writers block is why I went to school. I didn't know how else I was going to start writing again, except by force and threat of failure. The stories begin stiltingly and read funny to me at first, so I might edit and embellish. But I've decided on the advice of some dear, and wonderfully supportive friends, to write it all out. All 51 pages that I wrote on my short break between December 18th and January 3rd. I'm going to include the pictures I took, and a few of the pages I made notes on, since this sanitized image doesn't feel as authentic to me as holding a spiral bound with its frayed edges and road dirt. This computer screen lacks the personality of those paper pages. But I'll try to paint a picture for you, my friends, about my bicycle-riding self-recovery mission this past winter.

My first few days I spent at a fancy dancey resort with the fam. These are from the first half of the sailing, drinking, and snorkeling day we decided to go on. Kelly, big-sis Tara n I.

 I wrote nothing during this part of the trip, and lost my new camera in the ocean about ten minutes before these two following pics were taken. Go figure.

 After four days of nonstop eating, drinking, sleeping and sunning, I left the resort with my backpack, traveling on my own and hanging out with myself over the next three months for the first time since teenagedom.