Change of plans.

Cold feet, lack of winter storms, a big ocean of seawater and thoughts. It feels strange without snow fall and the desire to bake pies and drink endless cups of hot chocolate, cider (and sometimes whiskey). The head feeling of white-capped mornings and afternoons. By the grocery stores and street corners it smells like Christmas trees, but to me it just smells like home all year round, pine trees, in or out of the ground, soft needle beds in the backyard.

And I'm tired. I now sell coffee and small and expensive bottles of water and caramel filled chocolates wrapped in gold, and look across the counter at elaborate Christmas balls hanging from the ceiling (with tape), listening solely Christmas music until post-holiday season. And I look out the window at slightly warm streets and decorative window displays, and I think I am actually really indescribably jealous of my old job.

Most of the big things in my life keep changing, or, have changed. Which is weird and which is why I keep writing such repetetive and less than captivating blog entries (and I apologize for sometimes sounding fatalistic about my life plans), and poetry, and songs, mostly about my dad, or my mom, because I really don't know how to express things that are immediate right now.

Even though I told everybody that I was, I am not really moving back to California. And it is a long story about feelings and thoughts and places and myself which is not very interesting, but in the end sort of makes sense, and sort of doesn't. It's incredible how much I miss pines and open spaces and shady mornings and cricket chirps and quiet things, and things being a lot of things that they aren't. But I'll be gone for twenty days starting Wednesday and I think that will be long enough to chill out and isolate my head from everything.

And then I will be here, in Boston, which Ryan mistakenly thinks of as a thriving metropolis, and I hope that I will find enough things to occupy all of the space that is normally occupied with other things. I want to play music all the time and explore like a five year old in paths of eucalyptus trees; things along the east coast, clams, lobsters, snow scattered beaches, rock cliffs, bare skin neck, and other things you can think of.

And if you're reading this and live here, I hope you will come exist with me in my house sometimes, and I'll probably bake you things all the time. Or come to 85 Newbury street and I'll try to give you something free, like coffee, or expensive cake, even though I don't think I'm allowed to do that, but I might anyway. (And when I have money and newfound will to get out of the city and go some place, Dragana and I will move to Texas, our new home and drive to canyons! And aliigators in wetlands, buffalo, parakeets, sunshine, campfires, Indian tents, and smiiiiile).

See you soon, the end.