Current location:	Adkins, Texas
Current mood:	sad

My Life is too much an open book?
When I left Chicago, granted I left in a grumpy mood and left not wanting to leave, though not knowing what else to really do. Within a handful of days though, every new idea seemed motivational, possible, inspiring.
This could have been for a number of reasons, but I felt also somewhat independent.

Now, and again it could just be right now, this week, these past few days... but I know I get clingy. and that is how i Feel. clingy, scared, uncertain.
while previously i didnt feel like my ideas of going to study language and poetry hermit-like in Princeton, or elsewhere, or travel a bit while preferably studying something in Europe, or renting a cheap place somewhere in the Catskills or even further north and potentially writing... nothing seemed like escape, only "different" life - different experience. Now that again this Stupid *fear* of life in general has scratched it's way in, I see all these things again but see them as escape.
I also see myself applying for jobs and potentially taking jobs beneath my skill level... and why. and what. and what's next. Where the what's next a month ago didn't bother me - as something is always next - right now it is. Just because I am indecisive anyway. And just not that happy right now. Things are getting to me.
Ness as she said in her past response "it is always the same" with me and my comments, my posts, and maybe it is, with my life.
Making messes.


But whatever.
I worked at WNBC for a year - i did that.
I went to Chicago alone, found a place, worked there double shifting. I did that.
I lived in Austin alone for the most part.
I lived in Rutherford NJ and survived NYC for 2 years.
Something is next. Something new and next is coming.
And I do love my family.
And i do want more.
From life than what I am getting and what I am putting in.
I want to - as five years ago I wrote in a poem about chicago - experience life at a new pace.
But you have to MAKE things for yourself DO them for yourself. not just wait.
Chicago waited 5 years.

My book is waiting.
My book to screenplay to potential film... it is waiting.
and only on me.

my poetry also is waiting to be typed up.