Readjust.

I can't stop staring at the front page of the Health & Science section in this morning's Post. There is a human form with red circles around various body parts and the headline: "What's Replaceable and How Long it Lasts". This, I think to myself, is an interesting way to look at your body... and at the world.

The frigid air cuts through my eyelashes and freezes my brain as I walk around downtown. I'm wearing a heroic number of layers and I still can't feel my toes. This isn't even as cold as it gets - there was an insane snowstorm my first day on American soil as the friends I had only just left continued to send reality exploding into shards of psychadelic ribbons on the island of Koh Phangan, Thailand - the Full Moon reigning supreme; evaporating morality and staining the white beaches with misbegotton fun. I want to be there so badly.

Bethesda is the kind of place where quotes by Indira Gandhi pattern the faux-brick storefront walls alongside Shel Silverstein and Martin Luther King, Jr. It's all bullshit, but it looks good. It's the kind of place where even the high school losers get Masters degrees and every single kid I grew up with is doing something spectacular somewhere Ivy League, but where their current weight is still up for discussion.

I'm glad to be home, in some ways. My parent's new home is eerily silent and echoes with space. Corners hide behind corners, and in unexpected crevices beautiful trinkets purposefully adorn. My bed is huge and comfortable and I wake up every morning, use my own private bathroom and feel like a princess.

My neighbors have come over to update me on neighborhood gossip, to hug me and tell me how glad they are that I'm "home and settling down". Peace Corps, it seems was the unreality.

But is this reality?