"And we know it's never simple, never easy, never a clean break"

Had my first major panic attack about leaving last night; took half a Xanax & fell asleep to weird dreams at four in the morning, woke up at one in the afternoon. "You worry too much" Jessie said. Well, yes. About Justin leaving for China in less than forty eight hours, and freaking the fuck out (possibly) when he gets there. We fight more often than not, but he's still my twin, and I've never gone that long without seeing him. And about my mother, here for so long by herself, especially if she's sick, like she's been on and off. Especially if she's lonely.

I keep reminding myself I need to think of this as what it is--an adventure, a learning experience, what I've wanted for so long. It is all of that. I'm also terrified as hell. Despite the fact that I've already spent three months in Oxford, that I have friends there, that I've successfully completed a term. Despite all of that. "I know you're scared," Amy told me before I headed to Heathrow, freaked out about flying transatlantically on my own; about flying at all. "But I'm so proud of you--I know how scared you are--but you came anyway. You came anyway." True enough.

And I still have a week here--if this was back in grade school it would be an entire vacation ahead of me. So what did I do with it?

Well, saw almost everyone I wanted to see, save Holly & Evie in the city, Joanna Ferrell, & some co-workers. Got coffee with Bri, lunch & the movies with Chelz, baked Christmas cookies with the Holland Hill girls, made gingerbread houses with Cari. Went up to Sarah Lawrence, saw my girls. Spent a copious amount of time with Jessie, hanging out, bar hopping, driving around aimlessly. Worked my way through the first season of Felicity, and half a House marathon. Watched all my favorite Christmas specials; saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Marley & Me, Slumdog Millionaire. I want to see Milk & Doubt sometime this week; Revolutionary Road, which I wanted to see the most, especially since they filmed it in Southport, will have to wait til Oxford. Read not a single book. I need to quickly remedy that this week--finish all the historical fiction research I can do here, read Three Lives, etc. Drove down to the beach and sat on the swings to think. Went to Ludlowe, saw the old teachers I go back to confide in. Rang in the New Year with Jessie & Brandon, drunk off too many rum & cokes. Yeah, I drank a lot this break. Was insanely jetlagged the first week I was home, then fell into an anxiety-driven sleep pattern of not falling asleep til three or four then sleeping half the day away.

Had a few dinners with my father. Spent an entertaining afternoon with a Greek notary in Norwalk, since thanks to a will screw-up, my brother and I are now partial owners of an apartment in Athens we weren't due to inherit until after my father passes away. Watched my father & the old Greek man squabble in heightnened Greek. Watched my mother mutter under her breath. Watched a car almost drive into the notary's travel agency.

Started planning spring break with Amy--France with her & Sara; Italy--Venice, Rome, Tuscany; Greece--Athens with my relatives; Prague with Alex; maybe Vienna, Switzerland, Portugal.

Got a drink dumped down my dress by a congenial family friend of Jessie's, who then offered to pay for me the rest of the night. Luckily the dress and my (white) tights survived. Went back to watch a movie with them, was awkwardly groped. Jessie & I fled. Met another guy the week before; we hit it off. But of course I'm leaving. Maybe this summer.

Also had a crisis about what it is I actually want to be--what kind of writer, what I'll be able to sustain, what I have the discipline for. Maybe it isn't what I always assumed it would be. Maybe it's too early to know.

Maybe I just worry too much.