This Halloween, I learned that the older I get, the weenier I get (I’m not sure that’s a real word, but you understand).

I always figured that you got braver as you got older. But no, at the Haunted House we took the kids to, I shamedfacedly let one of the boys lead the way and shook a kid off my coat in my rush to escape the chainsaw.

Luckily it was fake, and I knew that, I just got caught up in it, that’s all.

That’s exactly what happened at the mini haunted house we went to during the trick-or-treating, and when E and I went to a theme park after all the other Halloween festivities.

But really, the official diagnosis is: I’m a wimp.

What happened to this girl?:

The girl who went alone to Peru, speaking about ten words of Spanish and merely knowing the address of her host family. Who had to (obviously) do the one-armed-lean pictures of herself for months, or use the set-the-timer-and-run method.

Now I throw children aside in my rush to escape the fake horrors.


Will I ever know that girl again? Will I ever be able to hop on a plane by myself? Move to a new city by myself, if I ever need to? (I.e. if I ever make a decision on what I want to keep studying).

I can barely go to the doctor by myself. I certainly can’t change a tire–despite several efforts by my dad. (Whenever my dad and car lessons combined, I immediately forgot everything he told me. As such, it took way too long for me to figure out how to check my oil–probably the easiest thing you can do in a car besides refill the gas tank).

One thing I can always do myself is make coffee and go shopping.

I guess you see where my priorities lie.

Happy November, and stay tuned in my independent lessons!