I have no fires under my bushel anymore.

My apologies for the two-week hiatus. I don't normally go that long without writing, but I've been busy.

I am typing this entry from my new Macbook Pro. Yes, I finally bought one. It is convenient because my old laptop was a beast and made a hissing noise when the fan got going. Not too attractive when you're trying to inconspicuously surf the Web during class. But this new computer is quieter than a baby breathing. Now I just need to find free software. And adjust to having OS X as my main OS.

I am rarely intimidated by anyone. I remember being intimidated by older kids on the playground when I was little. I remember being intimidated by my dad when I did something wrong. But I am rarely intimidated by my peers. This has unfortunately changed, as five people I recently met all scare the congeniality out of me. Whenever I see them, I want to dart into a corner and stare at the wall until they leave. I think it's probably just SAD spilling over.

Things: Going well. My relationship with Alex is officially the least troubled relationship I've ever been in (as indicated by the fact I enjoy his company more and more versus my usual tendency toward feeling annoyed).

School: I dropped my doc class, which broke my heart, and my Living Prophets class, which didn't break my heart if you've read earlier posts. The subject matter was fulfilling, the teacher was a knucklehead. But Alex wants to make my documentaries with me, making them our documentaries. Hopefully he is better behind the camera than I am, because I just have good ideas.

Thanks to my newly opened schedule, I now have time for a part time job. I've interviewed at a non-profit, a photo studio and a charter school. I feel increasingly inadequate, however, because while I am overqualified for the aforementioned jobs, I am more qualified for a job in my chosen field, yet there are none to be had in these parts. Frustrating! I must move.

I have been dreaming about New York lately. I was in New York in my dream last night. I keep trying to remember smells and people and places, and it's all slipping away. It's discouraging. I look at my old photos, clinging on to the memories like a baby to its blanket. But my synapses must be damaged, because I mostly just remember how much I want to go back.

It seems like every time I talk to my mom, she brings up my "situation" come January. How I need to make enough money to support myself. Where I'm going to live. My answer is always the same--the same as it was in a subsequent post. "I don't know yet, Mom. Things are up in the air. My decision depends on a few things." "Well, keep your options open," she says. "That's exactly what I'm doing," I say back.

I was going to post a photo of me and Alex, but I got lazy. Maybe next time.