Ugh... I hate it here so impossibly badly. I've been back for a grand total of five days now, and I'm already so thoroughly miserable I can barely stand it. This place feels like more of a prison than it ever has, and even having my own room is doing little to cheer me up. I think part of it is that the bi-coastal trend that has been the characterization of my life for the past two years is really taking it's tole on me. I would just like to be in the same damn state for one solid year, you know what I mean? The way it stands now, I can't do anything long term because I'm constantly going back and forth. I would love to be part of a choir or band or something, but how when I'm not in any one place long enough to really get involved? And all of my friends here at school are not here at the moment. M.E. has gone home to visit her family, McQ is going to meet the other-halfs mother today, and she'll be gone until mid-week. GBD and the WendyLady are both at home as well. That leaves me in my disgustingly cool new room with nothing to do except avoid moving the rest of my worldy posessions out of my old room.

I have no equilibrium here. In California, you could blindfold me, spin me around in circles, stop me, and even in that state I could still point and tell you exactly what direction the ocean is. I can look at pictures of CA and tell you exactly where the coast is, no matter how far inland that picture was taken. It might sound rediculous to anyone but me, but it's true. Last year when I was thinking of transfering back to CA, my academic advisor here scoffed at me when I told her I miss the ocean. I suppose a lot of people think it's trivial, but they're wrong. My formative years were characterized by their relationship to the ocean. So why in the name of all things sacred did I ever think I could be happy here, in Pittsburgh, six or more hours from the ocean? When I'm at home and I feel like I feel now, I can drive down to the beach, lay down near the water, hear the waves crashing and curl my fingers and toes into the cool sand and really think. Invariably I end up with sand in my hair and under my fingernails, but I would give my soul for even that right now. It's like having a hicky, sort of. Like in some endearingly childish way, the ocean has left it's mark on you and claimed you as it's own. And the waves hypnotize me, working into my thoughts and giving me a sense of natural rythm and regularity. The salty air and mist invade my senses and the sand molds to my body, holding me like it was tailor made for me. And more than anything else a feeling of home. It doesn't matter what beach it is, and I suspect it wouldn't even matter what ocean. Something about the ocean has wound it's way inextricably into my soul, so that without it I am lost, landlocked, alone, and unable to feel free. Right now I want nothing more than to curl up on a beach.

And I'm so anxious right now, so completely afraid that I will never again feel like I felt a week ago. I would feel so much better if I wasn't waiting on word from Humboldt. I wish I had the letter in my hand saying I've been accepted and could look forward to that. It wouldn't be the same as that other feeling, but at least it would be hope, hope that I can get out of here and be near my ocean again. Hope that something in my life is going according to plan and will eventually get me back on track. Besides, Humboldt has some great study abroad options... hmmmm...