Wibbil.

I haven't felt compelled to write. And wasn't really sure what to write.

Then today, maybe I would have, but my laptop scren has begun to torment me once again. The screen was periodically going black over the past few weeks. It was supposedly fixed last week, but it's back at it today. So even if maybe I would want to write, or at least share some pictures, I can't.

Just after my 3 month mark in Malaysia, I started traveled around the region. So I had new countries to write about, impressions to give. I'm limited to Ghana these days and haven't even really managed to get out of Accra for a month. I'm at that getting-comfortable-this-isn't-that-different stage. That's when journal-writing can easily be forgotten.

What I need from you is an assignment. What questions should I ponder about life in Ghana? What do you want to know? Understand?

I've been mentally composing an email About A Boy. But each day, the story changes. Now that the story may be over, I realize it would have been more interesting to write about it as it unfolded. Too late.

3 ducks sat in the middle of the road when I got home at midnight last Friday with my roommates. We were awakened the following morning by rain at 6:30 am and all jumped out of bed to close the living room windows in a dreamlike state. I have lots of fabric, but still need a good tailor. I am addicted to the Indian Sunshine Salad Bar. I got a job interview on Monday at the refugee processing entity that I was hoping to work; I'm afraid the timing is all wrong though, since my contract is till the end of July and they want someone asap. I have a plane ticket on reserve for South Africa in August. I was offered a bartending position but don't want to have to sleep all weekend to make up for the late Fri and Sat nights.

Rather than flowers, the boy gave the girl de-worming medicine. Worms have been the hot topic of conversation lately. I hadn't been worried, but after my roommate described waking up 'feeling them moving,' I couldn't help but lie in bed this morning, afraid of what I'd find. Another source says she woke up very hungry, as if her worms had eaten all the food. I just remember that time that our puppies had worms...ewwwwww.

I said something the other day that caught me by surprise only after my roommate raised an eyebrow; it began, "Why did God..." The ending isn't important. It was my off-handed, subconscious reference to God that was out of character. And clearly the result of seeing Jesus on the back of so many tro-tros and little shops called "Not by my strength but by God's grace."

Wibbil, I'm told, is a British response to something that doesn't translate/make sense.

Oh, and I'm not the girl.