Memoirs of a Fat Girl

Last night there was a United Nations summit in our living room, starring Tony Blair (Oli), Queen Beatrix (Moms), and Pope Benedict (Dad), definitely united against my going to the Middle East.

Her Majesty Queen Beatrix feels it's not 100% safe for her subject to venture off to parts of the world where her other subjects dare not go. Prime Minister Blair makes the adamant case (insert fist on table) of the citizen possibly being "seduced" and "brainwashed" by foreign cultures, while the Pope keeps referring to religious warfare.

Needless to say, even though Jordan is most definitely out of the limelight, the situation is not helped by suicide bombings and uproar over Mohammed cartoons. I understand they are my family and concerned for my safety, but the only fears I have are from their asking, "Aren't you scared? Aren't you scared?" every five seconds to the point where I *am* scared because I'm forced to rethink my thinking all the time!

I would like them to understand the wildness in my heart. I want to experience something new, something delicious and refreshing that I've never seen before, away from what I'm used to and after this last week, away from the pain in my soul. I want an adventure with sun and spices, and I really can't wait to sink my feet into the desert sand.

This is my main justification, followed by two more: first, if I was a hard core journalist, I would practically be living in places far more dangerous. And second... that's one reason I'm not ready to let go of, just yet. Be a little patient with me though, and I promise it will come.