rocket to nowhere

I thank you all for your feedback to the previous post. Considering this blog’s tagline, it seems to me the first comment might be the most useful. Or not.

I think there might be a third way: d) All of the above.

I really would like this to be a more dynamic place–a sort of collaborative act with the reader if you will, but you can’t force people to participate.

Here’s a picture of (part of) my bathroom:

I like this picture. I took it last week when Dad, Jen, and I visited Carhenge. I think it would be too easy and exceptionally trite to attempt to talk about this image in terms of how I feel about my return here.

This blog, this blahg, which began its life as an avoidance of the confessional, has slowly but surely gone the way of all vanity projects. Just two weeks ago, I was thinking about how I could use this space to keep my friends informed of my doings in the hinterlands, but that thought now strikes me as foolish. This space needs one of two things: either a return to quirky abstraction, or a swift death.

I’ve asked for your input before, is there any point in asking again?

Today has been a pretty lazy day. We got up and went to breakfast at the Arusha Hotel. It was very European and much like Litfass (without the method of ordering). [Funny, isn't it, how a European-style home dècor shop is "frightening," but a European-style breakfast isn't?] I stopped in the hotel shop just to look, and found some of those cute, Maasai, troll-like doll things with the beaded necks. I had also just given Sara and Micah the rest of my shillings. So I had to use my bank card. They were $5.00 a piece, so I asked for 2, but I had to spend $20.00 if I was going to use my card. The guy gave me five for $20.00. That was nice of him. Then we came back here (Mwangaza), and I showered and packed. We’ve just been sitting around since.

[Around 5:00-5:30, we drove back into town, and Dad and I caught the shuttle to the airport. While we were waiting for the shuttle (which was one of those mini-mini-vans that act like busses), Mom talked about how one time when she took the shuttle, it had a blowout on the way. Our shuttle was packed full with people and luggage. We had a blowout on the way to the airport. Shortly after the driver replaced the tire, the woman next to Dad told us that just the day before, there had been a horrible bus accident on the road we were traveling.

We got to and into the airport without incident. I was given a little trouble about the ebony walking stick I was carrying (You could use it as a weapon.), but when I pointed out that the woman in front of me could use her cane as a weapon, the guy backed down.

Our flight from KIA to Schiphol was long and uneventful. Dad and I separated in Schiphol, and my flight to Chicago was long and uneventful.

I was very glad to be home when I got here.]