Getting through customs with my month´s supply of Lithium was actually easier than I assumed. But my mother, who picked me up hours late after elementary school for years sent me the next two month´s pills late.

For one week I was unmedicated, but my doctor has said in the past that the half life is a week, so I couldn´t have dipped that fast. However, I am back on my pastillas as they´re called where I am at and I am having trouble.

Riding my bike to school is better than walking because there are no sidewalks, every time I pass horse shit it gets in my wheels, but at least I can pet them. One was literally tied to a leaf of grass, I thought of how domesticated it must be to not just rip that blade out by the roots, eat it, and flee.

But the classes, and the living all the way across town make me feel like the spoiled American even though I drive a small car (not often) and recycle. Here it is so different and I know I was told change is really hard for people like me but it has been so long, one would think I could adapt by now-

The program director had to loan me $1000 to get my pastillas out of customs and allow FedEx to deliver them. The day they did my host mother wasn´t home and I had to go to the office and wait for the truck to return for lunch. I hate being here, I hate paying her back, I hate living.

There are dogs on the streets, some travel in packs like little gangs trying to make themselvs more safe. My girlfriend thinks it´s that they get kicked out of their homes after they are cute puppies, she thinks they get love and then get thrown out. I wonder if knowing love and then losing it in confusion is better than being born on the curb which I am sure some are.