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.