here comes the sun

Or, coming out of 'Pause Poise'
...which would literally mean 'waiting to exhale'

Did I tell you that my room is, for the moment at least, "complete"?

Bedside table, assembled. Posters, up. Bookshelves, overflowing. I have the most perfect cozy nook this side of 14st street (as far as I'm concerned), and I'm not afraid to roost.

The funds are getting tighter, which makes my 'easy living' something of a game. The weather is finally turning on the charms. I remember this time last year I was discovering new land, and myself, cohabitation, and making new friends whom I wish I could see more often, or even at all. Early Spring days that feel like summer could now only mean Coney Island, gelati, and spontaneous bursts of joy - all very good things to associate with (except for Coney Island, which is just hilarious). This time around it would never be the same again, and as nostalgic as I like to be sometimes, I'm still pretty freakin' excited.

Drama school is, as common knowledge, pretty much synonymous with psycho therapy. Either replacing it, or driving you towards it. Being the usual ball of needy mess that I am (while maintaining a perfectly painted and pruned exterior), the summer finally means a chance to get my breath back. Release from the 'Pause Poise', if you will. The well of insecurities which I managed to clamp shut most of this semester finally broke a few weeks ago, and with it everything else broke too. Got sick for the first time in ages, felt alone for the first time in ages, got back on my feet on my own for the first time in ages, and looked forward to a break from everything for the first time in ages. Do you ever get the feeling that you love everything that you're doing, but you just want it to stop for a while? That you are just so absolutely exhausted from everything, you could hole up in the fetal position and stay there for months? I am there right now, even with all the shit that the humidity of New York summer dumps on my face, I say, BING. IT. ON. I am so ready for you.

Someone once told me, I write a lot, but I say nothing in these blogs, and I realised that it's annoyingly true. I hate those viciously vague blogs that waft on about intangibles, and here I am, wafting on about intangibles. It's because the people I would have to write about, would most definitely object to being written about. You should write me an email requesting for clarification or anecdotal evidence. I compose excellently juicy emails that would ramble on ad nauseam about any number of topics. I am the fountain of random inconsequential knowledge peppered with sassy opinion seasoning on absolutely everything.