And then there's me...

They arrived and immediately I knew I was terribly uninteresting. Sara and her friends are the type of people who adore fine art, hitchhike, wear interesting clothes. They’re passionate about life. They’re artists. It’s really wonderful. They walk around barefoot with their hair in messes, no bras and they are beautiful. They laugh and carelessly hold their cigarettes like torches of freedom. None of them share the same native language, but they all speak English through thick accents. They come from all over the world.

And I picked them up in my high heels and short skirt.

I need a job. I need something else to occupy my time, to get me out of this house. These people are very sweet and kind, but I am an outsider and I’m sure they will find me boring. We’ll see.

They are really wonderful and amazingly kind. I just know we are different. I’m appreciative that they let me stay in the house while they are here. I’m feeling a bit like a maid. The caretaker didn’t do the laundry again, as she didn’t when my parents first arrived. So I washed all the sheets and napkins again and hung them and some of their laundry to dry. I think I need to get out.

It’s the fourth of July. I ought to celebrate my country. I should really go to the P’tit Club down the street and have a beer and beg for a job. I just don’t know if I’m ready to scoot in the dark, let alone with alcohol in me – even if it is just one beer. (I say that because one beer is essentially like drinking a glass of juice; I’m the type of girl who drinks scotch and bottles of wine… one beer don’t do shit – but I’m not gonna risk anything on that scooter.)