The only thing I miss about living alone is peeing with the bathroom door open.

I really like 500 Days of Summer. But reading this article I've realized I know people like this and I don't like it. People made out of weird little quirks. Sometimes I feel like this. I say stupid-clever things. Tell silly stories. It works momentarily until my ever-present sincerity shows through and then people don't like me anymore and that's just how it is.

I am impressed with my dad's aesthetic choices in tea-kettle selection.

Not hungry this morning. The idea of shoveling granola in my mouth sounds terrible. I'm even having a hard time drinking tea. This has like never happened before. What is wrong with me? Maybe I am becoming super slim supermodel.

I had a really good time tonight. Sometimes you just have a really good time.

Also, on an unrelated note (not because I don't have a good time with him, but because I didn't see him until later tonight), I really care about Danny and wish I could make him feel better right now and I just can't.

You should probably watch this video and admire the pretty diploma that is very similar to my pretty diploma.

The Knox diploma was on the Colbert Report again last night. Yesssss.


I hate Michelle Bachmann. She is embarrassing to my tattoo.

My exhaustion is causing me to be a shitty everything. Went to sleep at nine last night. Feel sort of better today. Am drinking tea. I worked almost the same hours last summer (minus Thursday nights and Saturday mornings) and somehow I had so much more time than this.

Bedtime. Tomorrow will be better.

I freaked out and my dad bought me a tea kettle.

Sometimes my entire life seems to revolve around my exhaustion. I spend all day at work thinking about how tired I am and I come home and sleep. or watch tv and think about sleeping. There is something improper about this.

I switched breakfasts because cereal was leaving me hungry in the morning and I would start to panic halfway for class and only talk about food for the next hour and a half.

Paintings hung. My room now looks like somewhere that I live.

Mary Ruefle and Mary Carr.

A Lorrie Moore novel.

Mary Carr dated David Foster Wallace. I am reading her to figure something out.

Last night while unpacking I found two Lorrie Moore stories, "How to Become a Writer," and "How to Be an Older Woman,"that I read I different parts of my life. "How to Become a Writer," I read in high school. It must have been touching enough for me to keep the handout. "How to Be an Other Woman" I read in a fiction workshop senior year. Chad Simpson handed out books at random from a stack and the book I received, "Self-Help," was seemingly perfect for me. I had a line from the book stuck in my head for months, though I did not realize it was from this story and just kept idly wondering where it came from, hoping to stumble upon it, which I did. The narrator starts making lists because the wife makes lists. This was my favorite list. A very applicable list. The bolded section is the part that was stuck in my head. My favorite part of this story is that I an not even an other woman and it still applies.

Clients To See:
1. Fallen in love (?) Out of control. Who is this? Who am I? And who is this wife with the skis and the nostrils and the Tylenol and does she have orgasms?
2, Reclaim yourself. Pieces have fluttered away.
3. Everything you do is a masochistic act. Why?
4. Don't you like yourself? Don't you deserve better than all of this?
5. Need: something to lift you from your boots and into the sky, something to make you like little things again, to whirl around the curves of your ears and muss up your hair and call you every single day.
6. A drug.
7. A man.
8. A religion.
9. A good job. Revise and send out resumes.
10. Remember what Mrs. Kloosterman told the class in second grade: Just be glad you have legs.

Number ten, I believe, is not talking about paralysis, the abilities to walk, but nice looking legs. I have nice looking legs. I am glad about it.

Things to do today:
Buy more hooks for hanging pictures.
Hang pictures.
Look for Twins shirt.
If Twins shirt not found, find time this week to buy new shirt before game on Friday.
Buy planner. Schul Planner not application to this country.
Continue work in giant GRE book that repeats that same information over and over again.
Replenish food supplies for lunch tomorrow.
Write something.

I am pretty sure Katie and I were the same teenager. 

She keeps posting all these nostalgic things and pondering stuff that I often ponder. Why the fuck didn't I like myself? I was thin (due to under-eating), had more friends than I did now, boys actually wanted to be my boyfriend, when I wanted to I got good grades in classes, but I never really tried. I was just sad and slept a lot and felt like I was going to be lonely forever. I remember being 130 pounds (I am 5'9", so 130 is very thin) and thinking I would never let myself be that heavy again and I am definitely over 130 now and I still am okay with myself and can function in the world. Sometimes though I understand. Sometimes I still feel the same way, but mostly it's better. I don't want to make this a writer thing, because it's not, it's much larger than that, but most writers I've talked to (or rather, people my age who write), went through a similar phase, considered similar things. I am being vague because the things I thought about then seem ridiculous now. 

I love Lorrie Moore. If Lorrie Moore's writing were a man, I would let it doing whatever it wanted to me. This is probably why I am never really anywhere.

I follow blogs about Infinite Jest. I sort of hate myself.

Somehow my Christmas vest with felt cut out and bells survived the move, but my Twins shirt did not.

I feel like a million times better today. Maybe it was lack of sleep. Maybe I am still drunk. But somehow in my dream state everything reached a resolution. Maybe I was incepted. The worst thing in my life is that I can't find my Twins shirt.

I feel sick. Drunken kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Fuck. Capitalizing the wrong things. Judging people for not being intellectual. All I can think is "Thankfully I like myself. I could just spend all my time alone, except I don't like myself enough for that." Just want to talk about inconsequential academia all day. Drunk tired. Fuck. Work tomorrow.

My mom gave me her wedding photo album. WHAT THE FUCK.

Busy all the time. Except maybe tomorrow night. Trying to figure out why the things that are making me feel shitty make me feel shitty. Not sure. Feelings are easier to figure out when there is choice in the matter.

I need to write more. I should hang up my pictures so I can write. Where I live never feels like where I live until there are pictures on the wall. I need to sign up for the GRE. I need to go to graduate school. This is all I want.

I start to think like the authors I am reading. It's like when you spend a lot of time around someone and pick up their slang only worse. When I read DFW, I get very depressed and all my thoughts become long drawn out affairs, but I still do not lose my sense of humor. When I read Tao Lin, everything becomes minimalist, not always elegant and sometimes ridiculous. Tao Lin is very fitting to a person in their 20's. It makes it easier to handle my life. Instead of having feelings, I just think stupid thoughts. Except Tao Lin's characters still have feelings, but they are just a sentence. "So and so felt sad. He ate some vegan food and drank a few beers. He texted so and so and went to sleep." I am elaborating too much. I need to get ready for work. I need to read more. If I read more I won't care about things like my mom and doing shitty things to other people and people doing shitty things to me.

I am too tired to write or do anything except eat Amy's pesto pizza.

I like drawing more than I like most things.

I feel shitty today. Not hungover shitty, though I did have drinking water dreams which is indicative of dehydration. I feel shitty all the shitty ways. My cold persists and a festering thing is living somewhere in my chest. One of those metaphorical festering things that feels like a real thing. Eleven hours of work and then I am going to come home and eat pizza and hopefully do laundry. I am wearing a shirt with a hole in the armpit. I don't particularly care what I wear to work because I can pretend I am a quirky art student, though I'm not. Writers are different from visual arts.

I had something really clever to say and then forgot what it was. I meant to read Tao Lin and then turned out the lights. Too much wine.

I am going to take a shower and read Tao Lin. Talk about apathy. Or not apathy. It goes back and forth.

Blair makes a lot of sense. I don't remember what my last post said. Fuck.

It's like, I like myself a lot, but somehow I let other people do this to me. It shouldn't be surprising. It's surprising to no one but me. I knew we would finish the wine. I still can't let myself say anything. Maybe with some whiskey. Maybe if I get drunk I can say things. Everyone is the wrong person right now. Dee and I were going throw a party. This sounds unrelated but it's not.

When I'm tired everything becomes jumbled in my head.

Danny and I are having a party on the second. You should come.

I no longer know how to text or make plans. I want to make plans several days ahead of time and my texts to be answered immediately because I like my new phone so much and seeing all these people I haven't seen in so long. I am tired. Work is tiring. It is nice to be legitimately tired. There are things that are returning, positive and negative and I spent a long time in the shower (my thinking place) thinking about how I really don't trust people and then hating myself for thinking stupid things like I don't trust people. I need to be on Maury, some dumb tv show where people aren't afraid to admit that they have issues like trust.

I have a million plans and work this week and it is the best feeling ever.

My dad is pretty cool. I like him better than I like most people. I could never tell him that though.

My mom never showed up. She called at 9:30 and said she would see me in a few minutes.

"Don't come at 11."
"I won't come at 11."

This is why I constantly expect people to disappoint me.

Wearing a new hat and by new, I mean a hat I made last winter and never blocked or put on. I kind of failed at the blocking, but it's still cute.

I am still not ready to see my mother. Fuck.

Mom: What is it you want me to bring over?

Me: Clothes, my hairstraightener, hair curler, my stuff. 

Mom: Okay, I can see your hair stuff right now. 

Me: Call me before you come over. 

Six hours later:

Mom: I can't find your hair stuff, I'm just going to give you the money to buy new ones. 

My mother has become a chronic liar. 

Typical. I need a tazor.

Compulsively working out. Danny is coming back from the hospital. Happy.

Danny has infected intestines. I don't know if I already said this. I am the most tired person in the whole world. Except maybe Danny who was up all night with infected intestines.

Blair and I are making jello shots in scooped out oranges. Danny is in the hospital. I am getting a new phone.

Constantly having things to do is so strange and nice.

I don't even sleep. I'm pretty sure I slept for like an hour and now I am awake eating cereal. Note: the cure for jetlag is not to stay awake all the time. I think today I am going to crack and take a nap.

I've been unpacking all day and my room finally resembles a room. I'm still missing some of my stuff. It just occurred to me that it might be in the back of my car.

Livid, totally fucking livid. My mother, instead of bringing anything I needed over brought every single book (and my mom has a masters in English and obviously if you know me you know I have a lot of fucking books) and useless kitchen supplies into my apartment and kept all the stuff I need, like clothes, all the rest of my belongings since I was five years old besides furniture and is now using it to manipulate me into seeing her. I am going to make my dad take the stuff because looking at it is making me anxious. I'm getting my stuff on Friday and then I'm done, no more contact. Yesterday she actually said "I've been looking forward for you to come home and for me to celebrate this," and I said, "No, I've been out of the country for nine months, this is my day to celebrate," and she still wouldn't give me my stuff. What the hell? I would be so happy right now if it weren't for her. My apartment is beautiful, it was so nice to see Danny and Blair and Tessa yesterday. She's fucking ruining everything. I need to cut her off so she can't do this anymore. I can't worry about her mental state, that is not my responsibility.

I just talked to my dad on the phone. Really great. And Glo and I are texting. And I have dinner plans with Danny my new roommate. Being back in the US is so great.

I am in America. It is wonderful. So far I walked through what felt like a million custom gates and greeted all of them cheerfully and then drank a really large coffee and was very minorly sad I could not find starbucks and now I'm texting everybody and am shaking because of all the caffeine and because it is 11pm in Austria and I got up at 7am in Austria. I am going to persevere because Blair is coming over and Danny and I are going to make dinner/eat out and I am soooo excited to see them and everyone else in the whole world and everything is sort of fuzzy and happy right now for a great multitude of reasons.

In 24 hours my airplane will be flying!

Last night was the best I've slept in weeks aside from when a drunk Australian girl (not the one I had dinner with) brought a boy back to the all-girl 6 person dorm. There was a lot of bathroom using and whispering and then someone goes:

Be quiet!

Oh, sorry, were you sleeping?

Yes! Everyone is sleeping!

Can he stay here?

No!

The boy was in the bathroom for this exchange and when he came out the Australian girl informed him that he had to leave and he seemed astounded by this. Then someone announced that they felt sick (it might have been the same girl, but everyone sounds pretty much the same when they whisper so I couldn't tell) and were going to throw up and then there was a long whispered conversation about whether or not she needed the trash can by her bed. Finally the trash can was moved and luckily no vomit was produced. 

This morning I walked around Munich for about two hours, but since I've seen everything I want to see in Munich, I am now back in the hostel charging my ipod and waiting for an appropriate lunch time when I can eat a giant pretzel sandwich. 

The ride to Munich went very well. The bus driver was fantastic and before I could ask for help he said something like "Oh let me help you put your bags in the bus storage." Okay, so the only word I understand was help, which sounded like a very mangled Austrian version of hilfen (help in German). I actually appreciate the long bus ride so I could admire the countryside for one last time until I had to pee really badly. Peeing at the train station was interesting as it costs .50cents and you have to run through this little door after you pay, only I had two giant suitcases, so I had to position them appropriately and then hope for the best and go. I was impressed with my speed. Then I sat around the Linz train station for an hour and a half until the train came and I thought about how much fucking time I've spend in that place. It is so familiar and homelike. The train was late, which is a bummer because when they are late they try to make up time by stopping for a minuscule amount of time and the door almost closed on my suitcase, which was especially bad because there was someone behind me. I found places for my suitcases, but no place for me, so for the first hour until we reached Salzburg I sat on the steps by one of the train doors. Luckily the door had a window. There were approximately 700 little blonde children that all seemed to be related running up and down the train and using the bathroom. This was quite irritating as they peed all over the toilet seat. When the train stopped in Salzburg I was able to snag a seat and the rest of the voyage went without incident and the walk to my hostel was nice and easy. I met an Australian (because everyone always meets Australians traveling) and we went to the Augustiner beer hall and sat outside and I ate dumplings and drank a beer and it was really nice to have company. She even was able to tell me where to buy travel toothpaste. Considering I have been stressed out about this day for approximately nine months, I would say it was excellent and I am so glad it is done with. Tomorrow I am going to wander around Munich, buy some travel toothpaste and face wash, and be grateful I am going home.

Forty people liked the picture of me and my last Freistadter. I'm going to miss my students a lot. They're sweet. I should obviously take more pictures with beer bottles because that is the way to go.

This is my last post before Germany. I am going to the bus stop an hour before the bus comes. I normally leave 18 minutes before the bus comes and sit there for 10. I am taking no chances I am going to make it home.

Oh geeze I'm going to miss Freistädter. I'm gonna go home and drink Grain Belt all the time. 

I do love Austria though. I could live here if I were Austrian.

New music for the road.

Because Austria likes to fuck me over, all the stores were in fact closed. This was not a huge problem except that I had no bread for my lunch. I then had to walk to the Billa gas station (Billa is a grocery store), which has a very small but adequate supply of food items. It's a nice feeling to want to leave somewhere and be leaving. Much better than wanting to stay and being forced to go.

Exhausted due to insomnia, but rushing around manically to be ready for Munich. Hoping all the stores aren't closed because of the Feiertag. Excited to live somewhere without constant Feiertags.

My life would be really excellent if my mom had no effect on it.

I woke up and can't get back to sleep. This has been going on for weeks. I want to go home and climb into my bed and stay there for hours and hours.

One time Martin stopped listening to hip hop to see if it was affecting his song writing. I've considered this. I listen to hip hop and there are lines I think are genius, but really if they were in a poem they would be horrible. Except I really like to listen to hip hop all the time. Conundrums.

I thought walking around would make me sad and it sort of did until I saw one of my teachers in their car and he sort of glared at me and all I could think about was how only one out of four teachers at my school even acknowledged that I was leaving or that I did any work at all this year and it makes me glad to be going back to the Art Academy where they really appreciate me. I really liked my students. I thought they were really excellent and I was happy for the chance to work with them and some of the teachers were great too, but I need to go.

I'm basically finished packing. All I have left to do is clean. It feels so good.

Last full day in Freistadt! I'm sort of almost done packing. Later I'm going to go for a nice little walk so I can appreciate the town for the last time. I am so ready to leave.

This is what my packing sounds like

Do you ever hear of something that you've never heard of before and then you hear about it all the time? Bizarre.

I've watched all the Ke$ha music videos while packing. Also LMFAO videos. You can judge me, but I've had a better time packing than you've ever had.

I had a dream I was in a workshop with a professor who was being mean to everyone. It was, like workshops like this that I've experienced in real life, not conducive to anything. I don't sleep more than six hours now. I wake up at 5 or 6 and count the days until I leave.  A collapse is going to follow when I return home.

All that's left to do is pack. Which turns into all that's left to do is sit on my computer and watch movies and take naps.

William deleted his facebook, which was really sad and horrible especially because ever since he deleted it, I've thought of five million things to tell him. He's still posting in his blog though, so I stole these pictures off of it with the hope that he will put them on facebook someday:

Maddie and I bought crazy straws and little Austrian flags (that's Erin though, not Maddie)

Dirndl everywhere!

Party Stiummung!!!!!!

I bought a book about Freistadt:

I live in the Schmuckkästchen of the Mühlviertel. Doesn't that sound like a great place? 

Rocking the pigtails.

I like looking at pictures from this year because it looks like I had a lot of fun all the time.

I appreciate that other people are as obsessive about David Foster Wallace as I am, however I become slightly jealous, the way a person does when other people like their crush. It bothers me that they've had the same intimate experience I've had.

I get uncomfortable with people continuing to exist after I've shared a part of myself with them.

Three days left in Freistadt. Three days left of my loneliness. I keep pretending that the two days in Munich don't exist and I will just dissipate and reappear in the Twin Cities.

I no longer have an Austrian bank account. Schade.

Tired Tasha.

I haven't been sleeping well lately. I wake up too early and don't go back to sleep and by the time my alarm goes off it's been hours. I am going to close my bank account and then travel to Vienna and hide out in the cocoon of Anne's apartment.

It's like hey, I'm getting close to home, so all the things that were at home have to get real and remind me of their presence again.

I probably would've liked "Scott Pilgrim" more if I liked video games, but I don't. I do like Michael Cera and I do have baggage though, so it was still enjoyable.

Leslie: I should go and see what they think I am selling: a douche-vestigation.

Leslie: What's wrong with me? Why do good guys hate me and gross guys love me?

Geeze I love Park and Recreation.

Spent my entire four course meal daydreaming and drinking more than everyone else.

I need to stop getting emotional on my blog. It's dumb. But it does fit in with the regression I am going through.

My landlady came into my apartment while I was in my underwear. I was in the bathroom, putting on eyeliner and I slammed the bathroom door shut when I heard her and she still didn't leave. I said, "Ein moment," thinking she would give me sometime, but she continued to stand in the fucking door. Then she said something that I thought meant "I will come later," but she continued to stand there. Fuck this shit. I've never cared about privacy with roommates, so I thought that meant I was flexible, but I don't care if my roommates see me in my underwear. I do care if my landlady does.

It's like anytime something little happens it all goes back to the big things and I think about how no one in my family even bothered to download skype to talk to me so we would go months without talking because I couldn't afford to buy internet. I think about how my dad and my brother threatened to give my cat to the humane society and now he's living with my mom's ex-boyfriend because they couldn't care enough about my feelings to keep him. And I think about my big dog who got so excited after walks that he would claw at my door just to see me and it's like, if only the couch had fit through the goddamn door I wouldn't be thinking of all these things, but it didn't. I go to Austria and everything leaves and no one bothers to tell me until later and then it's always my brother who is the least tactful human being on the planet. You know how when you were fifteen and you swore to god your parents couldn't possibly love you, because they were treating you so goddamn shitty and then you got older and realized how fucking ridiculous that was and that they obviously cared about you? I feel like I am regressing, like none of these things are circumstance, but are purposeful acts to make me miserable. I can't even talk to people anymore. I can't even explain how goddamn hard it was to spend most of the last nine months alone and how painful boredom is when all you can think is that your house is leaving.

I just need one thing to go right. I need the couch to fit through the door. I need my bed to be found. I need to remain separate. It feels like stretching, you know, not like after working out stretching, but something on the inside, the way as a kid you pulled on taffy to make it last longer.

I like how more than one character on an NBC show has a poster of breakfast on their wall.

I love Parks and Recreation.

Tom: Luckily, when you're the guy, you can always tell people she's crazy.

This was so accurate! I have heard so many boys say this about so many girls and I know boys have said it about me and their general reasoning was that the girl had "feelings" and was "upset when we broke up."

Running went so much better today. I was able to run the entire distance I planned and I wasn't dying at the end. If I just keep running every day until I get home, maybe I will lose half a pound.

One of my chairs mysteriously came back while I was gone. My landlady is probably happy that I am leaving next week.

Mmmm I just got to take part in the English serving exam for 4th formers at the HLW (the HLW is a tourism school, but the HLW I work at also has other components like a HLK, which studies digital media). It was so wonderful! I had a four course meal complete with drinks and Austrian company and I get to do the same tomorrow. Wonderful.

Life feels good now that it's Monday and I have things to do and am going to Vienna on Wednesday for a movie night. It will be nice when I am in the US and don't have to travel for 2 and 1/2 hours to watch movies with other people.

Running was a bust. I hate running. I have weak ankles, bad knees, I'm pigeon toed, my body is not built to do that sort of exercise. My body is built for making babies. I have wide hips, boobs, that sort of thing. I don't feel better at the end. I spend the entire time thinking and being miserable. I am so out of shape that part way through the run I stopped and felt like vomiting so I sat down and stared at the Stadtpark and it's pretty flowers and thought for a long time about how even after months of living here I don't feel comfortable. I don't feel comfortable at home, in the grocery store. I don't even feel comfortable sitting in the park. It's different for some people. Some people can go anywhere and instantly feel comfortable. It's not like this for me. It takes me a long time to adjust and I still haven't adjusted yet. I need to leave. I am now very motivated to be somewhere that I have access to an elliptical machine. 

I am dying of boredom. Almost literally dying. Going to go running soon. Sadly boredom does not make me very productive.

Going to Salzburg to hang out with William and his family. I am hoping to turn my dreary last week and a half into something better.

I am going to make everyone really uncomfortable and be really upset for awhile. I get to be upset. My cat, my dog, and my house are gone. My mother is batshit insane. I should stop feeling like I need to justify my feelings.

David Foster Wallace would understand how sad I am about my dog. He really liked dogs.

What the fuck.

I was wondering how I would see my dog and not see my mother or where she lives. At least I don't have to worry about that now. I can just not see my mother. Because she lost my house and my dog and can't find my bed. Who loses a bed?

I have this fear that my Grandma, my one remaining grandparent, will die while I am in Austria and no one will tell me. Thank god there's only a week and a half left. I can't deal with losing things anymore. I think this is why I've started pushing boys away all the time, which is not typical behavior of me.

I'm starting to make people uncomfortable when I talk about my life.

My dog is gone. I hate my life. Not gone like dead, but gone like not living with my mom. My cat is gone. My dog is gone. My house is gone. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I really hate my landlady. Really don't like her. I didn't think I was a person who needed privacy, but apparently I am. I really don't like it when random people burst into my apartment without warning and start giving an apartment showing. What if I were naked? I'm going to start being naked all the time to make her really uncomfortable when she comes into my apartment without knocking.

Rainy days always sound like my cabin. I've been telling my dad for years that it rains more there and he always says, "No, I think it rains the normal amount." I always think of it as a place I am meant to be more than other places.

Yesterday morning I woke up with one of those terrible shocks, wondering where I was and what had happened as I did not recall going to sleep. Luckily I was in my own bed after having too much to drink (I remember happily getting out of the taxi and stumbling into my apartment, but after that everything goes sort of dark). This overindulgence led me to be hungover for the entire day, unable to move. Luckily I found my internet working and watched what feels like 10000 episodes of Weeds and managed to prepare myself food. I found soup a surprisingly good hangover food. While I was making it I kept going "Mmm tasty" (I was still a little drunk when I woke up) and scarfed the entire bowl down and was unable to eat my sandwich, one of my favorite foods, because it made me feel sick having to swallow something that solid. The nice thing about being hungover, it that it provides an excuse for doing nothing and as I have nothing to do, I needed that excuse. However, I am abstaining from the drink probably until I go home unless some marvelous event comes up.

I went to use the internet and it didn't work. Now I am pissy and homesick. Anger makes me tired. I bought an overpriced book of sudoku for something to do.