staying put, but going places

Another fun trip over the weekend. I went to Lexington to hang out with my brother (and company), which was a lot of fun. Then I went (back) to Durham for the Styx/Foreigner/Def Leppard concert, which was also a lot of fun. I was a little disappointed that Styx failed to play a lot of the songs that I really wanted to hear (including but not limited to Show Me the Way and Mr. Roboto), but Foreigner was way better than I expected. And it was fantastic to spend time with Jess, Heather, and Sarah again. On my way home, I also got to see Dallas, which was wonderful and much-needed.

I'm getting ready to start a job, which I'm both excited and a little worried about. I did an internship (of sorts) at the local mental health agency last summer, and didn't have a very good experience, mostly because there was very little for me to do. My cousin has since been moved to some sort of leadership position there and supposedly has shaped things up. So she's giving me a job at the crisis unit. I don't really know what to expect, but I'm hopeful that it will be more productive and meaningful than my previous experience there. At the very least, it'll be good experience to list on my resume (and I'll make a little money.)

I'm feeling more and more frustrated with my current situation. It sounds rather paradoxical, but it's as if, now that I'm back to my normal mental state (happiness, if you will), I'm able to see beyond my illness and realize just how unsatisfied I am with that fact that I'm living with my parents and not going to school. I had to go to Wal-Mart the other day (the first time since I've been home!), and I desperately wanted to buy school supplies, and it was strange coming to the realization that I don't need any. I almost cried. And tonight I had a very frustrating conversation with my mom. I told her that I'm thinking of/planning on taking a trip to Boston in October to visit my two best friends who both just moved there, and I ended up getting a lecture about how I "play" too much and need to get my priorities straight. And I understand that I have traveled a lot this summer (mostly to weddings) to see my friends, but I feel like I've


to do that. I don't have any friends here at home (Ashley was here for a couple weeks, but she's back at school now), so it's pretty lonely. If you know me, you know it takes a lot for me to be lonely (I tend to love being alone), but I am lonely. I need friends. Especially considering what I've been through. And even though I know now that my depression was because of my thyroid, I want to be intentional about not putting myself in a position where I'll be at risk of getting anywhere close to that state of mind again (i.e. by not interacting with anyone except my parents.) I don't want to get there again. Depression is hell.

But I don't want to talk about that, because (praise Jesus) I'm not there anymore. I'm restless and unsatisfied, but I'm healthy, and I just have to keep reminding myself of that. And I'm still feeling inspired and creative, which is wonderful, and has led to some more collaging--and more departure from what I normally (used to) do:

Again, feedback (positive or negative) is much appreciated. One thing that makes these different from anything I've made before is that I didn't do them with the intention of giving them to someone in particular, or of keeping them for myself. I just made them... to make them. And the idea of not having a specified audience is very freeing and greatly widens the scope of artistic possibilities. And thus, I have begun fantasizing about selling these things. I haven't told anyone that I'm thinking about that, because it seems very presumptious of me to think that anyone would want to buy them. I'm embarassed that this has even entered my mind. I'm not an artist; I just like to cut and paste, which anyone who went to kindergarten can do. So I don't know if it's something I should even be entertaining. Maybe I just have too much time on my hands (Styx


sing that song, by the way.) Or maybe it could happen.