And you can fill in the blank

I should seriously change the name of this blog to "Welcome to my identity crisis" or something far more witty that I can't think of at the moment.

I've come to the conclusion that I need a change of scenery. Perhaps I just needed the change of seasons - even I will admit that this winter seemed to drag on far, far too long. Now the daylight will stick around longer and perhaps it'll spare some light to shed on the course of my life. That was about as poetic as I'm willing to get.

Point is: I'm not inspired. My home life is comfortable and functional but it bores me. I've fallen into so much routine that I can't structure my thoughts. I've been riddled with change in the last year of my life, but I find myself wanting more. I think "Ok, I've done this so why not try this, now?" I can't get enough - and now I'm restless. I can move the room around, throw clothes away, rearrange my shelves, start a new workout - but I know nothing will suffice until I find myself between different walls.

I want a roommate or two in a small apartment downtown. I want to bike around campus - live a life of strict minimalism - consume smart and small - invest in books and technology and spend my time snagging the campus wifi on the lawn, researching and chewing gum, listening to jazz through my earbuds, squinting in the sun, watching people pass by - never far from intellectual life and academic circles. I want immersion in what I love.

I don't know why I never felt this disconnect as an undergrad - I can hypothesize that it was because being an undergraduate student was itself a very distanced feeling insofar as being "finished" was something that either felt impossible or was just altogether too frightening to ponder. Graduating meant that you actually had to make decisions about your life that went beyond spring-break destinations and whether or not you wanted to take that extra class that would push you to 15 credits next semester - and most of the time, you just thought for whatever reason you'd never make it anyway.

But now it's almost as if you were absent for the whole process, and you woke up with the next five years of your life staring you in the face - you can't remember how you got there, and you're afraid to move just in case it pounces you and pins you down - and you don't wanna go out in your pjs.

I should probably just quit thinking so much. I should probably just live. I should remain fluid, in the moment, avoiding those foolish consistencies that my imaginary mentor so poignantly reminds me. But, I should still listen to my body and my subconscious - I should pay attention to the methods, the melodies and the environments that pull energy from every pore.

Pay attention to the affectual relationships you have. Heed them.

Keep changing. Evolve.