CONFESSION: MY MIND IS ACTUALLY THIS DISJOINTED.

I've
taken 347 photos

since yesterday.


Made one phone call, received four. Ryan
says he moved BACK TO WACO. Crazy.
Now some woman tells me she's
waiting on this computer so I should
hurry
it
up.

Today I discovered that I suffer from the heart of an explorer. Or more like the people around me suffer from my explorative nature. I wandered off from the group and covered at least two miles down by the river, taking photos of the mysterious fog and trying to make out the boaters who were lost in it. There were no collisions so it wasn't overly exciting but I stole some rocks (shhh). Later I asked my dad if I was that dventurous as a child, trailing off at anything that interested me. He claims they were always trying to round me up. I'm not sure if I entirely believe him but I remember numerous times during trips to the store when I would contemplate letting everyone else go to the car and leave me there. I thought deeply about that one. What would it be like to be left alone in a public place? Would anyone notice me? Would my family miss me? My mom would pretend to just go on without me, knowing I wouldn't really stay behind. It was still a strange thing to think about, I guess. Seems strange in retrospect.

I now consider dirty clothes to be the mark of a successful adventure. It rained for about three hours this morning so any attempt at walking around outside of the pavilion resulted in the bottom six inches of my jeans getting completely soaked. I brought sandals that were soaked immediately and sneakers I soaked later. Now all three pairs of shoes I brought with me are in need of some type of cleaning.

I was a bit surprised that nobody commented on my blatant "FORTY NINERS" t-shirt since various relatives had Cowboy merchandise plastered onto their cars. It's strange wearing sport team clothing when you have absolutely no interest in sports to begin with.

I'm too tired to highlight other fascinating elements of my trip to Mountain Home, Arkansas. I almost called work today to find out if there is a Starbucks here. My reasoning was the same as when we stopped in Fayetteville yesterday--some strange coffee desperation took a hold of me and I had to buy up all the bottled Frappuccinos I could find at the gas station. I drank three in a few hours. I also sampled the coffee provided by the hotel and some decaf Folgers old folks were serving this afternoon. Both of them tasted like coffee-flavored water. I examined the Folgers can to find out where the beans are grown but there was no such information. I felt it was reflective of their quality.

TAKE THAT, AMERICA.

Now for phone calls and insane sleeptime.