The Me Report

So the girlfriend wanted until the end of August to decide if we were going to continue our relationship.

She decided she couldn't really decide, so we should go on a vacation together and try to work something out.

We're going to Cyprus. I've never been there before; it was one of the first easy destinations for Russians back in the day, though, so she decided she wanted to go there.

I wanted to go somewhere in South America or the Caribbean, but she didn't want to take a 20-hour flight. She rightly pointed out that I'm not working, so I could more easily handle a long flight. (But to that end, I'm staying for 3 weeks, whereas she's staying for 10 days -- if I'm flying for 20 hours, I'm taking an extended holiday.)

Some possible options, if we stay together, include: me returning to Vodkaberg; the two of us going to some as-of-yet undecided third country; getting married and starting paperwork for America (which can take anywhere from two months to a year.)

Possible options if we break up? Oh baby. Sky's the limit.

I've now been without a job for nearly three months; fortunately the income from the ebooks, and another writing project that will for now remain undisclosed, are more or less meeting my expenses. (So I don't really need to touch my fairly enormous savings from Saudi.)

So the path diverges, my American Dream, like so many, just broken fragments in the dirt.

Good thing anyway. I'm fucking bored with this place. Today I went to the library for a lunchtime presentation about identity theft, and then went into the backyard and threw throwing stars. My mother is beginning to wish I'd start blackout-drinking again, it'd be less pathetic.

I was even thinking about registering to vote, but anyway, fuck you too, America. You don't want me? Fine. I'm going.