somuchrain

It's now been two full months of homelessness, and by homelessness I don't mean the lack of a place to stay, but rather, the lack of a home. This - why do all of the figures of speech for being shocked involve solidity? floored, grounded, etc? - this did not ground me, nor am I floored, rather I feel like I've been floating and time's been slipping by. I've done a few useful things, I suppose. I no longer owe the bank money, nor the phone company. I've still got an unpaid ticket and my dog is still living with someone else. I still owe my mother some money. But those are basically minor. I've got a job, but on $150 a week it's not really job-as-exit as I'd hoped, more job-as-means-to-developing-film-and-buying-cigarettes.

For some reason I don't feel frantic anymore. I don't mind the moment when I've got nothing to do but read and I'm not working on painting over my lack of experience on my resume 15 hours a day. I hate my job and miss my dog and my books and having my own things, but I don't utterly loathe living with my mother as I imagined I would.

I've also decided on something. I'm going to stay around here, unless something amazing brings me somewhere else. Despite Autonomedia, Erika, and a few friends, I don't want to go back to New York. I don't think I'm up to it anymore. Maybe later. I'm hoping to find a proper job and get an apartment in Providence and, ready for it, go back to school. I think I'll get an MFA. Why the fuck not, eh?

That is my update.