I’m back in New Jersey. It’s only for four weeks so I’m not complaining. I didn’t even cry when passing through customs in New York this time. All the things I hate about America are still here: English with American accents, prices that don’t include sales tax, the feeling of isolation and dependence that go along with not owning a car. Just to be clear I never want to live in the land of undereducated overeaters permanently, I haven’t changed my mind about that.

But I think that I will always like to come back and visit. Firstly and obviously because this is where my immediate family lives. My mom threatens to move to Australia if the Republican candidate wins every presidential election, but she won’t go anywhere without my dad, and he’s probably never going to stop teaching at Stockton College. My family and my family-like friends are pretty firmly rooted here, and not everyone can just hop on a plane and come visit me in Europe. It’s nice to take a break from converting dollars to Euros and cringing. And then there are the material comforts-my bed, our pool, Hulu, my favorite brand of chocolate soy milk…My linguistic insecurities are gone here. My accent’s kind of ugly but so is everyone else’s. I don’t have to stress over tu or vous, du or Sie. In Europe I am average-looking with an average knowledge about the world that comes from having read an average number of books and visiting an average number of countries. But relatively speaking here, I am very pretty and very smart. Sorry, but that’s what I think. You’re free to disagree.

In other news I’m looking for an editor for my novel. Because it sucks right now but not so bad that it couldn’t be good with some help. I just didn’t realize how expensive this is going to be. About $3,000 if I want someone who knows what they’re doing to edit the whole thing. My mother is graciously lending me the money, but what do people who don’t have and can’t borrow that kind of money do? I guess write brilliant fiction that doesn’t need to be edited, or stay out of the literary world. Do I really want to be part of such an exclusive, capitalistic group of snobs? That’s how I will comfort myself if this whole writing thing never works out.