Oh, cellular telephone apparatus.

Today I woke up early to the sun coming through my window. It hasn't been around much, as Auckland's been plagued with black clouds and rain for the past few weeks. I briefly sat outside to feel the heat of the sun on my face, absorbing what little time it may have left before the clouds move in again. After that I did something funny, I mean, not completely bizarre; something out of sheer curiosity. The joy I would get from this moment pulled the corners of my mouth to my ears. It's stupid...no, it really is...but I took out my cellphone from the states and plugged it into the wall, hearing that ridiculous Verizon start up tone. I grinned. I had no idea what my intentions were at this point, so I continued to scroll through the options menu, play with the once familiar ring tones, and best of all, view old text messages. At this point, I was grinning uncontrollably. Of all things, how could a cellphone put a smile on my face not more than 15 minutes after I woke up? Then I started to realize the familiarity of the object...how much of home was stored in its ridiculously small memory, the phone numbers of people who I thought I'd forgotten, and I continued to smile. Reading the text message conversations right before I left for Auckland brought back fleeting memories of saying goodbye, the sick mix of excitement and anguish, the overall feeling of blindly tossing my rattling bones into a new place, and I continued to smile. My tear ducts unknowingly welled up as things went slightly blurry for not more than a few seconds, and I continued to smile. How can such a thing make someone feel this way? I knew at that point that things would only get worse. If I decided to hold onto that piece of home longer, I would have surely broken down; every drop of homesickness pouring from my eyes. So, I shut it off, tossed it in the draw, and shared the bizarre stream of emotions that came with the simplicity of a cellphone.

Someone tell me if I'm losing it.

This past weekend was the ball...an excuse to get dressed up, drink in a beautiful hotel, and dance to live music. It was, sure enough, a ball. Pre-destination apartment party: