I love cloudy days. I've always loved them. I think I like the mood it creates, slightly sad, slightly thoughtful, and it gives you a chance to think. On sunny says, people want to be happy and smile and all that blah, blah crap. Today it was on and off cloudy. I bought some groceries and coffee and sat outside, people watching. It's rather fun. I never understood why my dad would sit for hours in Taipain or Fay Da in Chinatown just sipping coffee and watching people. But it's really fun and you get to stare at people and fill in the blanks.

Is it bad that I'm eager to go home? Sure, it's freezing on the East Coast and I heard from my friend it's supposed to snow. I pray that my flight won't be delayed because it's already a super long flight back to the city. But I'm ready to go back. Paradise is only fun for so long, but then I miss the routine and responsiblity of daily life. And my mom misses me and needs help. Help that my father cannot provide and it's frustrating because I'm all the way over here, totally useless. But I did manage to reassure her over the phone and promised to take care of things as soon as I'm back.

I've even made lists of the things I have to do as soon as I'm home. I have sickness I tell ya, a deep sickness. :wacko:

Another note: I'm tired. I'm exhausted. I'm moody. I'm bored. I declined my sister's offer to spend time with her because I saw her yesterday, and she has a tendency to never stop moving, making herself and others (ME) exhausted. Plus I'll be seeing her tomorrow and on my last day of my trip.

My hotel is in a great location, but my first night I had a middle aged to older woman hacking up a lung. I'd be well on my way to lala Dream land, and *GIANT DEATH INDUCING COUGH* by said lady, I jolt awake.

The next day: I have a sex crazed couple who smokes pot.

My current next door roomie: a guy who is very, very loud in whatever he does, including unpacking.

I am sleep deprived. Add some early morning construction, around 5 or 6 AM...and I'm having homicidal thoughts...again. I'm no stranger to loud noises. I live near a firehouse in NYC, but that's familiar. This is...different.

Even worse, last night someone tried to get into my room. I'm hoping they were either drunk or confused and got the room numbers wrong, but the room numbers are awfully large. Thankfully, I bolted the door, but it still freaked me out a bit. Then the loud guy next door, I was afraid he would bust into my room, considering Mike was able to get inside their room. Why have rooms that connect? Why, why, why?!?

The sun has gone down. I plan on walking around for a long time. The nights are so pleasant here, like the summers back home for me. And it's nice to experience summer, but earlier.

I'm also on the 11th floor. It's high up. Cool to look out the little balcony they have on each floor. I wish I had rappelling gear. I wish I knew how to rappel. I'd strap on my harness and crap and fly down the building. I was tempted to do the same thing a few years back at my college. It had a huge window and a long drop. This is a tell tale sign that rampant boredom is setting in, if I'm contemplating these kinds of activities. I hate heights...

I'm out for my walk in Paradise now.

I wonder who my next door hotel roomie will be this time...