After being forcibly ejected from the group project several days ago for being an incorrigible ass I found myself with an evening to waste. So I went across the street to the corner store to get a couple of liters of beer to add to the modest collection of alcohol I'd already accrued in my bloodstream from the restaurant and the group project wine bottle. I don't remember much of that evening, but I woke up just before dawn in a sweat because of a terrifying vision of the future: living in a McMansion at the end of a cul-de-sac with a bitchy wife and two little kids. This got me thinking about what I want out of life in the space between when I woke up and when I was able to bludgeon myself back to sleep.

I want to have enough money to travel someplace foreign and exotic at least once a year for the rest of my life

I want to live in a house in Seattle that built with my own hands

I want to garden, grow fruits and vegetables, achieve a measure of self-sufficiency, even as if I'm living in the city

I want to learn several foreign languages

I want to be well-educated (which I suppose means going to grad school at this point)

I want to get out into nature, at least a couple of times a year

I want to fix up that goddamn Mercury

Probably there are more. Can't say I can think of them right now.

Muggy Humid Hot Feelings of Despair

So I've been in Europe two months. What sort of impression has this made on me? Absolutely none! Bring on the hedonism!

I was looking at my blog for the first time in two months (more or less) and discovered (shocking!) there was a comment! Who the fuck comments on my blog? James, evidently. Better be Pflager. Where have you been all my life?

I seem to remember coming here back in March, getting off the plane collecting my luggage next to a couple of Americans who were as old as they were Jewish and smirking because they had six man-sized suitcases and all I had was one backpack being hassled by some man in customs who wanted to know "where I'd come from" as if that question had any meaning buying a 26 Kč bus ticket and riding through Slavic Mexico to the Dejvická metro station apologizing to some woman on the subway because I felt like I was carrying around a corpse on my back getting off the train and realizing I wasn't just in some Eastern European shit hole then walking through the streets with golden afternoon light and long dark shadows from Baroque buildings and hearing American voices standing outside 8 Cimburkova and knowing I was here for real.

That was how I came to be.

Omm Nom Nom!

I thought of an awesome answer to the question "what are you going to do with your degree?"

Make a paper airplane out of it. Seriously.

Today was the first day of class. I was bummed. I had been enjoyed hanging around Prague, taking my time, not having anyone expect anything of me, being able to do whatever I wanted, no pressure. Here's what one of the professors (to paraphrase) said about the class: "Some programs are taught by fellow backpackers. But this program is very academic and we expect you to work." On top of that I've read all three books which have been assigned for the course. Actually, I had them at home, and could have brought them if I'd known in advance. I'm not looking forward to buying another copy of The Joke.

Anyway, I'm having a really hard time with the lack of personal space on this trip. It's made me realize that I am basically unsociable 80% of the time. But usually it isn't an issue because I don't have to spend that 80% of the time hanging around with people. Also, I think the reason I was apprehensive about blogging is because mostly, I'll just use my blog to bitch about stuff. But, c'mon, who wants to read about what a great time you're having? It's boring.

Mon Ami

Oh drinking, my one true love.

Moved in to the apartment today. It's pretty much a hotel room. I'm sleeping on the fold-out couch, it seems, for the next ten weeks. I almost prefer the hostel.

It turns out the place across the street from the apartment has free wi-fi, and cheap beer. So I expect I will be here all the time. It's convenient.

My head is empty right now. How does this always happen when I'm writing?

Never mind. The beer is here.

Inaugural Post

I feel like I'm in the way.

It's 8:13 in the morning and the cleaning crew is mopping the floor of the computer room. I'm on the hostel computers because I'm too lazy to drag my laptop down six flights of stairs. That would involve walking back up the six flights of stairs to my room. I'll pass.

Some American girls moved in to my dorm room last night. Its a big room, 12 beds, although part of it can be partitioned so if the people in their enclave feel like being seperate they can and then the big room really only has 8 beds. There's also a loft with two beds, which was taken the night I moved in, but I really would have like to move up there. Its private, for one thing.

I thought about asking the American girls if they wanted to go get some food. They're cute, and apparently nice, but I was struck with dread at the prospect of the conversation we would have, the same conversation I've had with almost every single person I've interacted with since I've been here. The "oh, where are you from I'm from here they sure do things differently over here." conversation. After five days I'm bored with the getting-to-know-you-in-Europe small talk. Maybe this is why I'm bad at making friends: getting to know people is profoundly boring work.

On the bright side, the book I'm reading, A Fraction of the Whole, is great. I previously breezed through Haruki Murakami's After the Quake in two evenings. Also a great book. And I've taken a lot of pretty pictures that I have yet to put on the internets because the internet connection at the hostel sucks. I'm hoping things will be better at school.

I'll try to sum up the last five days a little later. Not that anything of great interest has happened...

But first, breakfast!