Born in England, I would have stayed but I was never able to learn the language. After a traumatic youth amongst the Pennsylvania Amish, I fled to the south of France, where I attempted to fashion my life after a Marcel Pagnol novel. Realizing God was dead, but so was Friedrich Nietzsche, I enrolled in a rural New England college and dedicated four years to writing their respective obituaries. When I tired of the New England rat race, I moved to New York, breaking into the budding macramé scene and pursuing competitive bridge. Now I’m off to sunny Holland to pursue both a Master’s degree in literature and my lifelong dream of go-go dancing. This blog tells my story.