Back in Black

So maybe all I needed was a hiatus, so I could sort some things out in my life, and in my head.

And now I've had that time, I can start writing again. But maybe instead of a project like writing about one new place a week, I should do something else. To be honest, the "project" idea was only appealing because every time I'm feeling depressed about my life, I watch "Julie and Julia," panic and worry for the first half hour that I'll end up working in a cubicle answering phone calls from 9/11 survivors, like Julie Powell, and then spend the remaining two hours thinking "I should blog. I need a project. I will blog about a project!"

So much easier said than done. Honestly, I would love to cook my way through Julia Child's "The Joy of French Cooking," but not only has that been done before, but I really don't have the time. I would, if it weren't for the fact that whenever I don't have an essay to write, I feel I need to catch up on the sleep I missed out on while I was writing my essay. So no, I will not be cooking my way through someone else's cookbook, hoping to find myself along the way.

And what about my Carrie Bradshaw dreams? I could write a "Sex and the City" type blog and then millions of girls will relate to my romantic woes! But no, just no. I'm sorry, but I really don't want to share my personal life with random strangers. Even if no one reads my blog, it's more of an issue of principal. Plus, I think to write a blog like Carrie's, you'd need to have some seriously promiscuous girlfriends, which I, quite fortunately in fact, do not.

See, the fact of the matter is this: my life, by all standards, is average. And you know what? I'm okay with that.

I love my average life, despite how much I complain about it. Because my average life has these extraordinary moments. Most of which are just me letting my imagination run away with me, but oh well. So what?

I went to Dundee to see my lovely bearded Scottish boyfriend this weekend, and he took me to this little Sicilian cafe, and I am almost positive that we were seated next to half of the Sicilian mafia of Dundee. It was amazing. At least I'd like to believe it was half the Sicilian mafia. And why shouldn't it have been?