08072004 10:22 EST I have to wonder, at this point, how it is possible for me to still feel this way. After several days of perpetual, low-grade panic, you'd think I'd just be done. You'd seriously think that the numbness would have started to kick in and that I'd be mechanically plodding through the rest of the packing and through all those poignant last meetings with the people I love. But not so! Even now I'm feeling kind of queasy and trying to supress it via the application of warm, fuzzy, comforting musics and visuals. But it just can't compete with the roaring in my head or the site of my carfully decorated apartment getting stripped down to the wires and bare plaster. I wish I could just give up and start throwing things in boxes, but that's precisely what I was tryinig to avoid. One more day. One more day. Then I will just pack whatever is left. It's too much. I'm tryiing to compartmentalize it into individual, do-able tasks, but it's just too much. EVERYTHING has to be either packed or thrown away. I think I'm going to puke. - + - 23062004 00:33 EST When frantically packing for a trip cross-country, it's very difficult for me to remember that I don't have to catch up on all my email and other internet-based forms of communication because, hey, they have internet *there* too. Plus, the more tired I am, the more insecure and irrational I feel. - + - 21062004 07:01 EST They will tell you, 'you can't sleep alone in a strange place' Then they'll tell you 'you can't sleep with somebody else' AH, but sooner or later you sleep to your own space Either way it's ok, you wake up with yourself.... This morning I woke up at quarter after six, bright light shining into my room. The sun only probes my space quite early in the morning, because of the heavy curtainis I have up in the bedroom. As I was contemplating a dream I had about a zine called "Beantown's Best Purple Punk" and wondering whether it was something I had seen somewhere and assimilated into my subconcious or something that I was making up and whether, if it was, I should try to start it up after I move, and wasn't Boston more of a folky town, and what was the "Purple" for apart from alliteration, I realized it was time to get up. I don't know what kind of cruelly ironic twist of fate or what sadistic whim of a vengeful god made this the case, but all those years when I was longing to get back to being the night person I always believed myself to be must have turned me into a morning person. Well, that or I just haven't gotten used to the idea that I have no job, yet. Either is more or less equally likely. Whatever the case, I am feeling pretty good, this morning. (You know when you're singing perky Billy Joel songs in the shower that it can't be a completely down day.) At least this helps me to establish my routine wherin I don't just sit around playing video games all day... Maybe I'll go get some bagels... - + - Want more?