The snow has become rain. The dry white night has devolved into a wet slush like a dropped Slushie from 7-11. I'm realizing I don't have the energy to do this. What made me think that, if I had trouble at home, flying across the continent would somehow change things? All it has done is put me farther away from the people that can help me. There are people screaming in Russian all around me. I miss the comfort and privacy of my apartment. Even if I don¡¯t like the apartment or where I¡¯m at, at least it¡¯s mine. I can sleep in the closet or the bathroom if the bed isn¡¯t comfortable, or if there¡¯s too much light. There is a stove. I know where my things are. I find myself between despair and panic, just like home, but it¡¯s more difficult to deal with here. Oh well, lesson learned. Time to grow up, Jim.