For future endeavors
So the homesickness is a wavering entity. It comes, it goes. One day I am happy as ever to be here, the next wanting the Hotdog Shop in Niles, Ohio just for an hour of my life again. I sometimes fantasize about having my mother smuggle hot dogs from there onto the plane, but wonder if they'd even make it intact during the thirteen hour flight. Or even a roast beef sandwich from Arby's. That would be soooo good right now. Yet again, thirteen hours later, how good could it be? How sad to desire such monotonous fast food, and yet how keenly my stomach's and taste bud's memory urges. I think I may try to convince mom to bring something from one of these places no matter what, even if in the end it's no good. It's worth a try. Or Burger King's chicken sandwich with cheese. Oh god. Terrible food, yet after ten months of healthy-lose-twenty-pounds-by-just-moving-here-food, I am willing to try anything. The best I have here is a bad Mexican knock off of Chi-Chi's and a so so Mediterranean place that offers gyros that aren't exactly gyros, but suffice for the most part in these times of differential need.
After the first nine months, I didn't think I'd ever be the whiny bitchy I want some American food guy, but it seems that I have become exactly that. I've made my peace with that, though, because I figure for all I'm going through here (for example, I had to stop and think about that phrase, how does it go? I've made my...what? how does that saying go again?) I deserve some damned fast food of the quality I've become accustomed to, even if it does put ten pounds back on me just from looking at it. Hell, in a month, I'll lose it again anyway.
But, as I said, off and on, some days great, some days growling like a starved dog, depending on how much sleep I get and how my day goes in general. Would like to think this is preparation for some future endeavor. Who knows? Maybe it is.