i mentioned earlier that i've been watching several television shows lately: "samantha who," "ugly betty," "pushing daisies," and "chuck." for those of you who know me, you know that that is a LOT of TV for me. all throughout college, the only shows i watched religiously were "buffy the vampire slayer" (remember watching in phat's apartment?) and "felicity" while i was in mexico for study abroad. gluing myself to the tube this year (and computer for online streaming) is a result of a combination of things: saving money, saving gas, being afraid to socialize, and apparently, being afraid to live my life.

i came back to the mainland filled with hope: i had finally seen what i had been doing for the previous 2 years and knew that i had to make a change. i was ready for that. but i also returned with my same old fears and many new ones. though i realized for the first time in my life that i was in responsible for my own happiness, i did not know what i was supposed to do to create that happiness. i had left everyone to do some soul-searching so i really didn't think that it mattered to many that i had come home. my unemployed self could not find motivation to find a job. transitioning back to california was harder than i envisioned. so in freaking out, i locked myself up (except for a few scattered souls who knew of my whereabouts and with whom i leaned on for support -- thank you!). i had a few outlets; i went to some classes at a community college, i played volleyball, i spent time at home with my parents. and i also watched television shows to forget how lonely and worthless i felt at times -- for those half-hour and hour blocks, i was not thinking about my own sad thoughts; i was witnessing someone else's life. and it all became habit within the blur of "routine and apathy."

recently, i've been trying to return to my writing. something inside of me has been wanting to express everything i've been bottling up and ignoring. some of my creative inspiration from before has even come back into my life.

but a young woman who i work with said something (among many) last friday that stuck with me and came up when i was trying to write this weekend: " you can't do stuff in life just by reading about it." so that when my soul was excited to put my pink pen to paper and translate all of my feelings and thoughts, my mind stopped my hand and thought, "instead of writing about life, why don't i live my own?"