If you're just tuning in, I'm running some posts from an offline journal I kept during the month of April.

April 17, 2006
I’ve been thinking of getting together a collection of my writing and try to get a chap-book published. I want to call it “Napkins”. I don’t know why. It was an idea I had at about 12:30 last night as I was drifting off to sleep. Except now I have to write a poem called “Napkins”. But now that I’ve had that idea, I feel writing such a poem will be somewhat contrived. Not that most of my poems aren’t contrived anyway.

Been thinking a lot about Virginia lately. Whenever I get stressed, I just think about what it will be like to live on my own for a summer near D.C. I have visions of myself chilling on the roof of my apartment, eating home-made sushi, watching the sun set. My hair has grown out by then, long enough to pull back into a pony tail, with some shaggy stuff falling out. Very art-student. I have no idea if the apartment building has a roof for sitting. OR if I’ll even for sure go. But I want to. Very Badly. An internship in Milwaukee or Chicago with the same “paying me” set up would be pretty sweet too. But there’s something very appealing about living Far Away and starting, if but for a summer, someplace New.

When I dream about future settings for myself, I always seem to be alone and happy. Even though I know that I will be homesick and weepy. Maybe it will be different in a place more my own. But probably not. I will make friends quickly, but I will miss everyone. But- I will know its good for me. I seem to have a need to live someplace Far Away. I’m not sure exactly why, or what I have to prove to myself. Actually, I do know what I have to prove to myself. I have to prove that I am a capable adult who CAN stand on her own two feet. Only a year and half, supposedly. According to my own little calculations. Until I can get my own place for real. I see myself living in a metropolitan apartment near coffee shops and a sushi place, spending my free time near some body of water. Painting, writing, pioneering. I don’t have a roommate because I can never agree with anyone on what kind of wine to keep in the house. I like red but most of my friends prefer white. Besides, if I had a roommate, where would I put all my books? I rent a two bedroom, using the second bedroom as an office/library. The futon in the living room doubles as a guest bed. I love having company, as long as they leave after a day or two. This gives me my own space to be me. To not feel judged or watched. I am running my apartment my way, and in my spare time, I know that’s ok. I keep it clean, but without a roommate, I can vacuum at midnight if the desire should strike me.

When I have a roommate, I feel like they’re just waiting for me to slip up, or am doing something wrong if I don’t do things the way they were brought up. Living by myself, I should have relatively fewer arguments.

I am listening to a French rap song at the moment. I’m going through my CC365 Podcast and am organizing the songs I have so far. I have a soft spot for anything French. I should be a little more discerning with styles and all, but something about the French language hits something in the back of my mind. I love it unreasonably.