So in my pilates class today, standing next to my belgian roomate Els, and as I was at the same time exhaling and lifting a giant well-balanced rubber ball above my head, I coughed. A normal action, I am not sick, I simply coughed. The instructor, alarmed, said, "Only tell me and I turn off the air conditioning if it 'makes you bad', eh??" I had just uttered the words "No, thank you, I'm fine." when a nosy old lady voice shouted above the music, 'It's not like those girls can feel anything."

I know she said it innocently, thinking that for the colder climates of our respective (and very different countries) we would not be bothered by the cold air. But God, to say we don't feel anything? Sheesh, if she only knew.

So I've been homesick lately, that is, until this weekend. A lot of it is resentment and regret that my grandmother died last week and I didn't have the money to go home for the funeral. Another part of it is that I was feeling that the place where I am living is not a home, but just two rooms with my crap in them, not decorated, hardly home-like, and a bit unfinished and lonely However, this weekend Els and I bought some cheap wooden furniature and 'soft home furnishings', which have really affected me psychologically. I can say I am much happier this week.

This could also have to do with a wise quote I read this week:

"Your happiness is intertwined with your outlook on life."
-a fortune cookie

So I went to my 'writers group.' I have little to no experience writing and with these other writers I feel like a small fish in a big pond. Or a big fish in a small pond? Or some other metaphor? I think I completely just used that out of context. Anyway within the next few weeks I am expected to present something to the group for critique. Oh God. So I'm working on that.