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»ĘмǿЯέжĨç~ÞĨмþ«
Gaytopia being San Francisco of course.

I was told a few weeks ago that I'd be sent out to California. Then I was told it would be San Francisco. Then I was told it would be to see an elderly gentleman who is apparently superman and has survived many things that would kill an average man (brain damage, cancer, strokes, and some other s**t I think). You can imagine the epic sadface I pulled when it turned out we weren't even staying in the city, but about 50 miles out in a town called Pacifica where it was always foggy and cold.

Anyway, we spent most of our days in or around the city... doing tours. I don't mind being on vacation with my grandmother and cousins/aunt/uncle from Missouri, but when we go to an awesome city in an awesome state and I have little to no time to myself to do the things that I think sound like fun (namely parties, clubs, meeting people, etc.) it kind of starts to ruin it.

Of course, heading out with an out of control eating disorder to live with the conservative members of my family and Reno (my cousin who plays football and eats like a beast) was bound to be stressful. I never wanted to throw up and cross the border into bulimia as much as I did several times during the trip, but I managed to suppress those feelings and limit myself to just flat out eating as little as possible. Even this came as a bit of a shock to everyone except my brother -- who is used to it by now. Towards the end of the trip I started eating quite a bit more though. I'm not sure if it was because of Rob or Reno or maybe even the subtle bits of 'southern courtesy' I was noticing from my uncle, but I'm kind of glad it happened. For the few days before I came home I got to experience what it is like to not have the feelings of absolute worthlessness and have my every thought revert back to food and how much I weigh or how shitty my complexion is or how short I am or anything negative of that sort. Of course, for those few days I also ended up falling back into the self abusing cycle where I once again progressed the scar that's never going away to be even larger. Luckily only Reno noticed and he seemed fairly chill about the whole idea.

There were a lot of foreigners in SF. Mostly Asians, but there were also a lot of Germans and French for some reason. Here I was, headed to the city expecting to see basically a huge gay orgy in the street (I'm from the Midwest, shut up!) only to find out that like half the city's population is Chinese. That was a bit of a shocker.

Anywho, it turns out my Great Uncle (or is it grandfather once removed) looked to be in better health than my own dad. I also got to meet another half of my extended family that I never knew existed. From the douchy guy and his wife and kid to the one girl who had a degree in German and who I ended up confessing my eating disorder to, it was a fairly mixed bunch. It's a shame that I'll probably never see any of them again.

I could type for hours and hours on a whole bunch of individual stories that happened, but instead I'll leave this entry to be about overall feelings. Till next time.

I HAS AN AUTO-FORMAT TOO! SEE?