Things keep feeling stranger and stranger here. Time seems suspended more so than it does when I'm at school; despite bedtimes that approach 4 am and the ever-present desire to nap or sleep 'til 3 when I'm at Wes, at least I have to stay up for a reason. And when I don't have to stay up for my studies, there's always some worthwhile activity going on somewhere. I miss being able to take a walk at 2 in the morning and know that I'll find a concert, or an improv show, or chalkers, or a party, or people on the steps of Olin. The streets are more deserted here in plain daylight than they are in Middletown in the wee hours.

I need something to do; Will's home at last, and we're toying with the idea of a "project," something that takes multiple days to complete. Something to worry about. I figure my curriculum for Explo is my true project, along with the CRWC research I owe, and I could always look at graduate schools more or research fellowships for after graduation. But there is a part of me that is so angry right now that I can't focus on those things. I've been told point-blank by my mom several times since I've been home that I'm a terrible person. When she does that, I always get this desire to prove her right rather than prove her wrong, because I know that would upset her far more. But, I just have to shrug it off and see her as being infinitely more unhappy than I'll ever be.

I also feel that I'm forgetting what made me happy at Wesleyan. I was at Borders on Sunday, touching the spine of a Kaplan GMAT booklet for several minutes, thinking, "International business... mmm... This is my purpose in life." Nevermind the fact that the U.S. News rankings give fine arts the shaft; Even their presentation of education programs makes that academic field look pedestrian. As much as I've tsked and tutted people who unimaginatively weigh the pros and cons of MBAs versus JDs, I feel like I'm being drawn into the same fucking circle. It fits me well in a sense, as I've been studying political economy for two full years now and I feel like I've got a pretty decent grasp on the things I've fallen in love with within that concentration, but rather than stay on that course (Like this woman, for example: reading the Times the other day, I saw that Nancy Scheper-Hughes runs a watchdog NGO for organ trafficking; I had been using a lot of her research on women and breastfeeding in Northern Brazil during the 1970s for my paper. While she's very obviously an unforgiving lefty, I appreciate the fact that she's still going strong on her principles after 30-plus years in the field and on the faculty (I think) of Berkeley), I'm so tempted to use my degree's prestige and hard-earned GPA to get into something "cutthroat." If I've created the opportunity to make a wad of dough, why not?

It's funny, too, typing that note about Scheper-Hughes, and realizing how little I talk with my friends about what I study. I guess that comes with living in COL/CSS territory this year, because I can't exactly jump into their discussions in any intelligent way. Oh, it's lonely being the only one among my friends studying what I do. I wish they'd ask me at dinner some night, "so how's that infant mortality decline going in Brazil these days?" Haha. But it's true. I forget how much I know sometimes, because it doesn't have much of a place in the witty banter transacted over games of cribbage in B6.

I hate this fog. I hate it more than the humid 90-degree weather of the East Coast. I need to think happy thoughts: I love Yaron. It's true.

I can't remember if I mentioned tossing all of my high school clothes and prom dresses in my last post (damn this new Blogger format), but if I didn't, I'd just like to say that I feel sooooo good about having done that. I brought them all to Salvation Army a couple of days ago, and the guy working there was just in shock when I came in with four brown bags of tshirts and jeans and 3 gowns in plastic garment bags. I hope someone else gets to enjoy those, minus the emotional drama that often comes with events for which formal attire is appropriate.

So, the theme of my week (and I can't believe it's ONLY been a week since I arrived home) has been "Purge" (in a healthy, not vomiting, sense of course): getting rid of clothes, pictures, notes, papers, and little "mementos" that really only served to torture my soul for all of eternity. I cleared my cell phone of numbers that only irk me when I see them in my phone book. I cleaned up the email list to get rid those people with whom I've lost touch (for good reason). If I could, I'd also torch my house and bulldoze this town, but I'm trying to be at peace with the fact that these desires are unattainable.

So, I guess this is just an obvious cry for help to those who care to make sure that I don't turn into too much of a dull, passionless, lethargic bastard before I get back East. Honestly, I'm kind of afraid it will happen.

And I want my CD to get here in the mail. I desperately need a reminder of who I can be.  ¶ 20:32