Wednesday, Feb. 25, 2004 - 1:27 p.m.
It's sort of hailing tiny icy crispies outside. It's not snow, really; it's more like precipitative shave ice. Now, there's a regional difference: do you say "sno-cone", "shaved ice", or "shave ice"? I grew up saying the third in Hawai'i, but I doubt I'd use it now without explanation.
I am in the midst of a pretty weird part of my life, I think, and I'm not documenting it real well. The short version: I finally managed to stop thinking constantly about the fact that I'll probably move this fall, and this has resulted in my not wanting to move at all, really. I've been overwhelmed lately by not wanting to leave L or break up the band or have to make new friends all over again. I want to be HOME. However, Columbia is not it -- it's not home. Same thing, I know. I have written about this so many times it makes me hurt -- the not knowing how to keep a balance between being around people who agree with me and people who challenge me, wanting to know exactly what to do with myself when I grow up, blah blah blah. This time it's weirder, though. I've been hermiting away, except for hanging out with L. I've barely talked to friends far away in weeks or months. And I'm behind at work. Guilt and indecision are kind of smeared around everything I do these days, and I have no idea what to do about it.
You should go read Liz's brilliant entry about a New York book world event. She will make you cheerier than I can right now.