Waiting...
I keep wanting to post something, but I always feel that I should wait til there's something concrete to talk about. Something definite in my life which makes some sort of sense. At this point, however, I figure I should just give up on thinking that will come anytime soon. Weeks keep passing by, and the plan is edited in some sort of way every few days.
From...
moving to Cincinnati with Matisse
to
moving to Louisville with Matisse
to
trying to find a travel partner and just going
to
moving in with Jason in Connecticut
to
moving in with Sky in Washington state
to
starting in Connecticut and just traveling til I find a place I like, for an indefinite amount of time
to
Connecticut for two weeks, Texas for a week, California for a week, Washington for a week, wherever else in between (keeping New York, Illinois, Oregon, Indiana, and Vermont in mind), possibly moving back here at the beginning of April.
The thought of moving back isn't entirely appealing; the situation would really have to fix itself up correctly for me to feel comfortable with it. I'm being hopeful, but not worried; if it doesn't work out, I can stay on the road. I feel okay with not having a definite plan, and I suppose that's a good thing, since there's barely been a real plan to speak of.
All I know is that I need to go. If I don't get a real vacation, I'm going to turn into an even more miserable mess than I already have been. One letter and I become the goddamn French Lieutenant's Woman. This isn't what I want, this isn't who I am.
Stop gazing out to sea, girl. He's not coming home.
***
Mike just woke up and told me about his dream where he was attacked by cell phone sized robots, which had a weakness of Jager and were able to be picked up and snapped in half.
And apparently, those crazy Mooninites are at it again.
From...
moving to Cincinnati with Matisse
to
moving to Louisville with Matisse
to
trying to find a travel partner and just going
to
moving in with Jason in Connecticut
to
moving in with Sky in Washington state
to
starting in Connecticut and just traveling til I find a place I like, for an indefinite amount of time
to
Connecticut for two weeks, Texas for a week, California for a week, Washington for a week, wherever else in between (keeping New York, Illinois, Oregon, Indiana, and Vermont in mind), possibly moving back here at the beginning of April.
The thought of moving back isn't entirely appealing; the situation would really have to fix itself up correctly for me to feel comfortable with it. I'm being hopeful, but not worried; if it doesn't work out, I can stay on the road. I feel okay with not having a definite plan, and I suppose that's a good thing, since there's barely been a real plan to speak of.
All I know is that I need to go. If I don't get a real vacation, I'm going to turn into an even more miserable mess than I already have been. One letter and I become the goddamn French Lieutenant's Woman. This isn't what I want, this isn't who I am.
Stop gazing out to sea, girl. He's not coming home.
***
Mike just woke up and told me about his dream where he was attacked by cell phone sized robots, which had a weakness of Jager and were able to be picked up and snapped in half.
And apparently, those crazy Mooninites are at it again.