tonight is a night that i will write and write and write.

i'm not sure why i stopped blogging .. but if i had to guess, i think i would have to attribute it to the fact that keeping a journal can make your reality more real.
that's the last thing i've wanted these past 18 months.

but it's all come to a head now, all come full circle. there are too many ideas in my head and not enough on paper. my mind is generally overtaxed. yet, on some occassions i worry that i'm too efficient at forgetting..

compartmentalizing... oh yeah. i used to be pretty skilled at it.
used to know how to fall out of love just at the point where it got dangerous.
used to know how to channel frustration and anger in a way that was both constructive and creative.

[oh, nostalgia, forever my mistress. ]

these days i'm in one of those places where the past is more enticing that the present. in the past, i had my grandma, my grandpa, my dad. i had a life that was familiar. i had buffalo. my mother had her practice and her husband and her health.

in the present, i am infinitely more lonely in the world. my father's gone, my grandparents are gone, and so are a number of my former friendships..

i feel like an anachronism. what is a thinking and feeling woman in this age, anyway?

can't get respect from anyone..be in my mother or lover.
don't know how to raise my voice loud enough to call my employer and bitch them out about holding back my final check.
can't think of enough good attributes to write a personal statement for law school.
bascially, i can't do shit.

so i brood and i write, and continue to hope that i'll find my saving thing. .