This is the cake presented at the little office party that actually managed to surprise me, because with my headphones on and my eyes glued to the computer screen, I am completely oblivious to all around me. I love this work place, and not just because they've pumped me full of champagne on a friday afternoon. I actually really love it. They made me a cake that says "Get Out"!
It's the only job I've ever had that made me feel like I could actually do it, eight hours a day, five days a week, for as long as it keeps happening. I can work full-time here without feeling broken. Usually I even enjoy it. That's pretty awesome, for someone who didn't manage to make it to a full week of classes once, ever, at all, in the last three years of highschool.
I think my obligatory speech consisted of "Um, you people make it possible for me to like the United States! Ok. Stop looking at me now. Eat cake." Then went to hide behind Sherilyn, who is somehow much better at this sort of thing than I am (and will cope just fine without me, I promise).
Leaving is wierd but good, even the uncertainty is pleasant in it's confusing way. I'm excited about going on the big trip, and I'm excited about going home, and then it all kind of fades off into pleasant grey static. I'm excited about whatever comes after, I just can't see it, and that's OK.
My very dear friend tells me, and then admits she's lying, that she won't miss me because she knows I'm coming back. I feel sort of the same way. The certainty that I'll be back is a lie, but the lie keeps my chin up and my goodbyes light and pleasant, so that I'm cataloguing the lovely memories without being buried in nostalgia.
The way some people are responding is almost like the fantasy of being present at your own funeral to hear what people say: on the chance that I might be gone forever, people come forth with truths and feelings they might not otherwise admit, but the mood is light because I could be back. I have discovered all these previously unknown crushes on me, which is especially heart-warming because they're held by the sorts of people I'd have crushes on too.
I took this photo on the roof of my apartment building on a warm, windy night last week. You all think I'm really vain because I only ever post photos of myself, don't you? Well, sure I'm vain, but the photo thing is actually because I don't feel like I have the right to post pictures of other people on my blog. Even where I have general permission, it feels like a breach of my blog practise, where it's OK to post really personal details about myself because I never implicate anyone else in the various adventures.
I now have two little ponies, the pretty white and pink one lukely bought me and a little all-pink glitter-winged raver pony who was apparently found on the street. Clearly, her intended home is with me and the other pony- meeting their destiny as my little photowhores in the foreground of my shots of the great sights of the world.