You don't have to remind me every time we talk I'd "better make smart decisions" and "remember you'll have a curfew when you get home". Yes, mother. You've reminded me, mother. SO MANY TIMES, mother. I'm almost 20, and I'm the only one of ALL my friends who has to be home at a certain time. It will be midnight and we're all just hanging out, and I'll have to leave because I have to go a mile down the road to pacify her. I hate how she treats me like I'm fifteen. HATE it. I think she takes those "It's 10:00 pm, do you know where your child is?" campagns a little too seriously. I mean, negotiating curfew is something you do when you're sixteen, not nearing twenty. And just because I'm on my own she has to remind me. No way. I know I'll be living at home for at least four more years, because I have to do grad school in order to be able to teach, and won't be able to afford my own place unless I get a roomate or five. I'm very grateful to my parents for all they do. But... curfew? Seriously? Having to know where I am every second? Having to sleep over Allie's house every time we want to catch up past 1 am? I feel like I'm growing away.

Doing anything is possible with a boyfriend who's willing to stay on the phone with you for two hours while you throw up. 3,000 miles away, and he still finds ways to care. I daresay he is a God in the wake of my world.

John Mayer, Skype, baseball hats and Taco Bell all remind me of him, as well as my teddy bear with the plaid armband and every show I go to see. He is encouragment and my biggest supporter, friend and love. When he picks me up from the airport... that kiss will be the most romantic, hurried and passionate in all of history.

That's all.

Day eight, and it's practically flying by.

This place is amazing.
We've made friends with the Indian couple who runs and food & wine store in the tube.
They give us free stuff that comes from their magazines.
Yesterday was free tubes of coconut hair mask.

 Leaving for London tonight.

GOOOOOOOOOO AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY.

I sometimes forget how painful it be. One night can turn into an hour and a half free-for-all.

My stomach, eyes, brain and feelings are all sore.

I do not want to be without, but keeping it in tact is sometimes harder than I like to remember.

I do love the shit out of you, though.

Next year? You'll just slip out of their lives as they grasp after you, too.

I know how you got through half your classes in high school- that won't work in University. I almost hope the ethic follows you there.

My birthday is on Sunday.
Maw-maw from KY and I went shopping while she was up here- she bought me an expensve pair of shoes, expensive face cream and a nice chocolate blazer... apparently, she didn't think that was enough. So, she sent me a really large package, and inside is a flat, large square object wrapped in wrapping parchment with a note attached... huh. I'm a little scared.
By the time Thursday rolls around, it will be my eighth straight night at the bar. At least I have Friday, Saturday AND Siunday off, the 3 most coveted days top get off in that place. It's near impossible. I don' know how "I got all three off. I just wanted Sunday, but I'm honestly not complaining.

I've started horseback riding again... it feels... fantastic, really. I'm progressing really well, she says. Much more than she expected.

London. I leave September first.

It still doesn't feel like I'm leaving.

I love that I can sit on a couch all evening and just read.

Love that.

This weekend was semi-tremulous, but after Friday afternoon, it was lovely.