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09.02.06 - 11:05 p.m. today i only talked to one person face to face and he asked me for directions. People are constantly asking me for directions, and also, to take their picture. This makes me feel better about things. I took a long, long, probably not altogether safe walk around the "neighborhood" tonight. I like to walk the alleyways because you see all sorts of crazy things--dads carrying sleeping children upstairs, someones spice rack and their clean drying cutting board, peoples shower curtains. Im not sure voyerism is altogether bad, i know looking into peoples back windows, the ones they dont think about putting shutters over, helps with loneliness. Because there is a man reading the paper, his wife puts things away in the kitchen. In this huge city, people still stand in their dining rooms idly watching car commercials. ive been inside my head all day--last night with a stupid boy that i didnt really like; somehow tonight is better. I did not smart things born of loneliness today. I called my ex boyfriend and was the bizarre girl that keeps contacting him and then breaking up with him over and over again. I didnt do the amount of work i was supposed to do. I didnt leave my apartment until ten pm. but the walk was good, our bodies are made so well. We require really very little to keep breathing in and out and in and out for no reason. My heart is beating away and i think of it not at all. My legs are moving and moving, my feet one in front of another, and i am just a girl walking down an alleyway. it occurs to me, that eventually i am going to have to make something of myself, but i am feeling the slow slow turn--the infitisimally noticable urging toward something else. Something maybe better. And it feels better and worse. Its difficult to live in this world, or i guess i dont know if its difficult or not as i have nothing else to compare it to, but there is just so much going on all the time--its difficult to have substantive feelings about anything. With no direction how is it possible to feel anything other than 'might as well be this' which feels less defeatist than pragmatic. i dont know what i miss. i used to think that it was home, but im not sure. The air here is really the same air as there. The houses are not much different, people still stand around on their porches in loose circles and talk to each other, motioning with their solo cups. People still run into each other while walking their dogs and stand together in the middle of the sidewalk to tell stories about whatever. i dont know if i miss anything which i--i dont know--miss. If there is nothing to miss, then that means that there is nothing else but what you have in front of you, which is of only your control. Somehow i always felt home as a "safety net" but its not really. Yes, fundamentally, food clothing and shelter. But its not a life. Somehow i am getting stuck on that--that there is a life that i am responsible for living. I guess i always thought i was biding my time, trying to prove something by staying alive--by moving away and succeeding. I cant imagine why though. I guess i thought i was biding my time, but that i would go home soon, like i was at some prolonged summer camp, and my "decisions" were really more like choosing rafting over crafts. All of a sudden i realize that this isnt true. The decisions that i have made have been one small step after another toward something that has become mine. Mine alone. My life. This somehow doesnt seem possible. How easy it was, really. Making this life. So easy that i didnt realize that i was doing it, and now here i am. It makes me wonder what in the world ive missed all along. Although i guess theres nothing easy about it, but the thing is, you dont die, so there is little else to do but keep going. i hope for the best, i work toward something, i walk down alleways � 
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