Dear reader,

I know I've been terribly lax in my consistency of posting, and it's horrible of me. To be perfectly honest, I'm sure this isn't the best time of night to be blogging, but the urge struck me to do so for whatever reason... and also, I am being pressed, mostly by myself. But none of that really matters.

My research topics are coming along rather swimmingly, thank you for asking. Belly dancing is wonderful and I want to do it forever. Speaking of dancing, a couple hours ago I arrived back home from a Halloween/tango party, where I had dressed up as Mrs. Lovett, and Trevor as Sweeney Todd (as was referenced in an earlier blog post, which I'm sure you recall, given how you memorize everything I say). With the assistance of Emily, I used scarves to harness a pillow onto my rear, beneath my long skirt, so that I had quite a bulbous rump which was most appropriate for a Mrs. Lovett sort of costume. I may or may not someday post a photograph of this phenomenon. Don't hold your breath.

Now I have some serious crap to talk about. It's been made clear to me what I really want to do when I go back home. I want to first acquire a job or some alternative sort of money-making thing (no, people, not prostitution; I was thinking of something more like a self-started cleaning business or something where I'm not so much "employed" as "hired." Which may mean the same thing, now that I think about it). Anyway, I want to save up some fair chunk of money, and then ride-share all over the country. When I'm sick of this country, I'll go to Europe or Asia. I don't want to be tied to any one place. I don't want to be attached to things. Here's my philosophy: I love guitar. But I actually love the act of playing guitar more than I love my guitar itself as an item. But there are more guitars in the world. Should I somehow lose or break the one I own, I don't want to be the sort of person who becomes extremely upset about it. Because there are other guitars. There are other houses. There are other clothes. The last thing I want is to be attached to stuff.

So ends my small rant on what is currently inspiring me. I guess that's a good note on which to end my post.

Savagely,
Amber

P.S. The magnificent shoes in the photograph belong to Cameron.