Everything In Between

It’s hard to talk when I’m sad. I want to, but I just can’t make my mouth make any sounds that form words. My father realized this when I was younger. One time, and only one time, when I was upset and feeling like I couldn’t talk, he set me up in front of a computer with a text editing window and asked me to type my responses to his questions. He was clever; his questions were simple yes-or-no questions at first. I think he realized that it was even difficult for me to type anything more than that at first. Slowly, as he sensed my body language change, he would start asking more complex questions that required more complex answers. Yes or no responses soon turned into short sentences and soon after that I was pouring my heart out onto a digital notepad.

That is how well my father understood how to communicate with me, for I am all but incapable of communicating actively when I am in such a state as that.

Interestingly, it is only around another person that that state causes such a complete shutdown of my communicative faculties. Alone, I am still quite expressive, as this short piece illustrates, for it was written shortly after I was left alone in just such a state. Furthermore, an internal dialogue is constantly running through my head in these states. Indeed, I am very expressive in every meaning of the word, except in outward appearance. Small gestures such as the slight twitch of a finger are in fact huge, sweeping, screaming motions, so loud as to silence my own thoughts for a few moments and yet so invisible to an outside observer that I somehow feel that much more unheard when someone—through little fault of their own—fails to recognize it.

This is unendingly frustrating. I am at once both completely irrational and unreasonable, unforgiving of people’s blindness towards me and at the same time intolerably chastising myself for being so incommunicative. The internal war feels as though it is enough to tear me limb from limb, which in addition to making it hard to speak makes it hard to move. Muscles become at once weakened and strengthened, incapable of lifting the weight of my own extremities and yet ready to unfurl in so spectacular a display of speed and strength at a moment’s notice that one might believe them to be constructed as though they were made of some giant wound metal spring.

I do not understand why it is so insanely impossible for me to break from these states. Of course, in moments of obvious sanity I tell myself that it is precisely insanity that makes me so distraught. However, this very thought also makes me wonder how I can be so sanely aware of my insanity and yet be so unable to do anything about it.

Something from tonight that I said that I want to remember:

The thing about being strong is that being strong means not getting what you want or what you need and yet being okay anyway. When I was young and, of course, even these days, I don’t always get what I want or need. I can do it, but I don’t like it. When I was young, my father would regularly tell me to be generous. The thing about being generous is that it makes it easier to be strong. That’s what my father was trying to teach me, I think. That’s really a very smart thing to teach a child.

I should preface this with yet another warning that what follows is the incredibly hysterical ranting of an emotionally stressed person and should probably not be taken as anything other than an expression of the emotions currently running through my head.

Oh my god! This can not be happening to me. I simply can not deal with this.

There has been an ongoing issue at my work about training. After the absolute disaster at the last engagement I was on, I was promised three weeks of training–something I’d been asking for since after I finished my “official” training that I felt didn’t really help me at all because of the unorganized, utterly abysmal experience that was. Then it was two weeks. Then it a little more than one. Then it was just cancelled, and I was next put on an assignment that allowed me to work from home.

This working from home thing was awesome, because it meant two things. First, that I would get the chance to actually use the product I’m supposed to be an expert in supporting as opposed to looking over someone’s shoulder while they use it because they don’t want me touching their computer network due to the company’s security restrictions, which is what was happening at the disaster client. Second, it gave me the chance to work from home (duh), which is honestly not something I really care that much about for any reason other than the fact that it meant I don’t have to dress in ways I don’t feel comfortable and maintain this mask of someone who I’m not for the sake of the business. Admittedly, that is a big deal, but it’s not a dealbreaker, y’know? (I don’t actually have any problems being professional, but there’s a huge difference between being myself professionally and being a certain kind of professional that has to fit into the molds of the B2B corporate American mold. I can be professional, but I will never fit into that mold, not by a long shot.)

The really annoying thing about getting the chance to work from home, however, is that all this opportunity to spend at home is happening while Sara is in freakin’ Australia on the other side of the fucking world! Sara has been gone since january 24^th (and I missed her a ton immediately), the same day I fell awfully ill with the flu for half a week. It’s been an unbelievably long amount of time and the whole experience, for many reasons that I won’t go into here, has been harrowing in ways I wouldn’t have imagined to the point that I’m insanely anxious about simply getting to see her again because the thought fills me with a crazy sort of unimaginable fear. (I feel so stupid for being this scared about it.)

Now she is finally returning, though because of flight delays I don’t know exactly when, and I expected a call from her some time this morning but haven’t yet gotten one and it’s already 2:30 PM, so this whole airline delay thing may very well cut into our weekend plans. I have already booked flights for myself to Maine and for us to come back on Sunday night. I had to juggle my plans around because this next week at work was planned to be a formal Oracle database training intensive, which I have been looking forward to ever since my first day on the job when I learned about these training intensives because one of my bosses told me I had just missed (by a couple of weeks) the week of intensive Python training taught by Mark Lutz, the author of Learning Python, Second Edition. In brief, I cancelled my Monday day off that I would have spent as an additional “welcome back” period with Sara in Maine that I had asked for (and earned because of the fact that I worked the Martin Luther King Jr. Day holiday) in order to attend this Oracle training–because I wanted to.

Now, I just got an email from another engagement manager (a boss, basically), that they want me to fly out to Washington State so that I can be there on Monday through (probably) Friday. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?! If I am made to go all the way across this fucking country on the first week of Sara’s return (this upcoming week) for a client who has offered me no real idea of what the fuck I’m supposed to do instead of the training everyone else is getting and that I was expecting from everything I was told at my interviews (I literally asked people “Why did you join this company,” and everyone told me because the learning opportunities were immense–which is true, the opportunties are immense and wonderful, but I want some of them too, damnit!), then I am seriously considering simply saying no and quitting my job on the spot. I simply don’t think I’ll be able to handle that, and with all of this turmoil and absolute torture this job is putting me through, I don’t think I’d feel as if it were such a loss (except financially).

I feel like every single fucking thing is going wrong right now. I don’t feel as though I have a damn shred of support (I know I do really, but it’s so far away), an ounce of understanding (again not really true, I have friends who can understand, but I don’t think Sara really can on anything but a cognitive level–not to say she doesn’t have struggles or that her battles are less important or easier than mine, but she does not have these struggles that I have and by that very fact simply may not be able to relate experiencially to what I’m going through), and the worst luck (and please don’t tell me to count my fucking blessings, that is not what I need right now; I know damn well what my blessings are, thank you). What makes it so unbelievably painful is that the whole of my experiences is so much less priviledged than Sara’s, who’s just been on a wonderful vacation for six weeks and is returning to the wonderful feeling of coming home for a weekend ski trip and to her boyfriend who is supposed to be ecstatic to see her. And I am ecstatic to see her again, but I am so stressed out and emotionally high strung right now that I feel as though I wish she isn’t going to have to put up with this from me.

I spoke for hours with my friend who’s staying with me (after her own horrendously painful breakup the week Sara left for Australia) and she told me that I have to start thinking about myself, not worrying about what kind of a burden I’m going to be on Sara. This is smart, and is probably what I should do, but it’s so hard for me to do that when I have this incredibly powerful urge to just focus all my energy on making everything good for Sara. (Why is that such a powerful urge? Oh my god, for many reasons, all of which are valid and many of which are perfectly healthy, but none of which I’m going to go into right now.)

My friend said that I should want to get pampered from Sara for a little while, have her take care of me, be treated to thoughtfulness and compassion and empathy, and that I should let go of all these stresses I keep taking upon myself like worrying about whether or not I’m going to be happy enough for her so she has a good time. Again, this is smart and makes sense; I can’t possibly have a good time or expect Sara to have a good time with me (which is what I want more than anything in the world right now) if I’m going to be obsessing about the question all the time. But I’m really scared.

I’m scared not only about this weekend but the future as well. What’s going to happen if Sara gets accepted to a school far away? Besides the point of fact that means she’ll be leaving New York, it makes me feel like another knife of how differently priveledged Sara and I are is once again thrust into my heart–not by Sara, just by the situation. I would feel much, much, much better about the whole situation where she feels like she wants to go to graduate school for creative writing if I could understand what the real driving force behind that motivation is. I have to know that if she leaves me for school (I evidently have major, major abandonment issues–not surprising considering my childhood with divorced parents and whatnot), she’s doing it for a reason that’s near and dear to her heart.

Not that I think she’d ever do something so big as moving to Australia for graduate school for any other reason than one that’s near and dear to her heart, but it will be easier to take if I can at least understand–not necessarily agree with–her choice of action and why that specific action of going to a graduate school is the right one for her to make, versus something like getting a full-time job and actually getting into the mindset of writing professionally–not just learning about writing–as I know she can do brilliantly. It comes back to the feeling of resentment (and I feel more guilt for having this feeling of resentment in the first place than I ever thought I would ever feel guilty about anything ever (especially since I constantly tell Sara that guilt is not a useful thing to dwell on–we both have our guilt complexes, me from this, and her from being more priviledged in life than I have ever been)) over my being forced by the Fates to fight a hellish battle for every scrap of happiness and capability to follow my dreams that I can get, whereas Sara has the good fortune to prolong her schooling–something she enjoys–and put off the dreadful experience of having a so-called “real” job (it is viscerally disgusting to me that a “real” job is always seen as something you don’t want) and putting up with the rest of the crap of living in the so-called “real” world (again, I want to vomit thinking that the “real” world is so full of strife all the time) for yet another four years (or more, if she goes for a Ph.D. in Writing in Australia).

(As a sidenote, holy shit, that was an insanely convoluted parenthetical paragraph. Also, I don’t actually wish for her to get a job she hates, of course. I would hardly wish this hell on my worst enemy.)

Again, it’s not that I think Sara doesn’t have her own stuff to deal with. But there is simply no arguing the fact that on many scales of measurable priveledge, she got dealt the better hand. She is brilliant, a constant inspiration to me. And she is so amazingly healthy. No other person I have ever met or ever heard of in my entire life, without exaggeration, is so glowing with the unmistakable aura of a uniquely qualified intelligent mind such as hers is and has not gone through a great deal of very measurable pain and suffering as the source for their genius, the likes of which is obvious to everyone who hears about their suffering. That is the case with me. I am very, very smart. I match Sara’s awesome strengths in many ways, such as self-awareness and intelligence, kindness, and skills in our respective interests. But I have so many still-open scars that have gotten me to this point. Her body is enviously relatively unscathed by the harsh realities of life.

I don’t want this whole thing to sound like a self-pity party–because that’s not what this is supposed to be, but I can’t not feel this way right now. I’m working on it, god, I’m really working on it as hard as I can because I don’t want Sara to have to deal with this huge amount of utter shit that’s in me. I miss smiling. I miss being happy enough to just listen to music and hum to myself. I can’t remember the last time I did that.

And of course, I miss Sara. My god, I miss Sara most of all.

Sara just called! Right as I was publishing this entry, Sara called. She had heard my rambling, crying message I left for her and called me back saying that she was sorry for saying that she’d call me this morning because she was thinking in California time, and I’m on New York time, so when she meant morning she meant California’s morning. (D’oh!)

However, also bad news is that because of the airline delays it is looking like she may not be able to get to Maine until 10 AM Saturday morning, which absolutely changes our weekend plans…. I don’t know what else to do about this weekend, my job, or anything right now, except to go through the motions as normal and so I’m just going to wait things out until I can see her and talk to her face to face and actually hold her in my arms again.

I still feel that no one really understands.

Took a stroll around my old neighborhood, the West Village, earlier today. Actually, I should be saying yesterday since it’ll soon be sunny outside. (I actually got to bed at a decent hour tonight, but now I can’t sleep. Cried a bit when I got out of bed.) I miss that neighborhood a lot; you can just walk around there, day or night. You can’t really do that in Washington Heights, where I live now. And I miss walking like that.

As I walked around downtown I saw a lot of noteworthy things; shops I used to go to, restaurants, some closed, some renovated, some replaced by new ones, that old couple who always goes to the Bus Stop Café on Thursday evenings was there, thought about getting a cupcake at Magnolia Bakery. I saw another couple carrying their respective pet cats on their shoulders and heads. Took a few pictures (unfortunately none of the cat couple, though). I didn’t stay too long.

I walked to the Apple Store afterwards for their Aperture presentation. Only made the second half, but it was interesting. Kind of didn’t want to go home so I milled about eavesdropping on the Geniuses at the Genius Bar—thought maybe I could learn a thing or two. Didn’t really.

Tonight’s not been a complete loss. I’ve finished editting the flyers for my Web design tutoring attempts, and since tomorrow Sara and I have plans to meet friends downtown, I’m thinking of printing these out and putting them up where I can.

I do wish I could get some sleep, though. And that I’d stop being so…whatever this is.

Earlier today I mentioned to Sara that it seemed to me as if so much had changed in our lives in the past eight months. Ten months ago I was just getting out of a painful relationship, and she was a college student. Then for four months we were living out of the back of a car while we travelled across 14,000 miles of North America. Now we’re living in a very New York apartment with concerns like finding jobs and making money.

And in a few more weeks, my life will change drastically yet again; the other day I was informed that I had been officially hired for a new job in (what else?) tech support for Macs.

Even though I am very excited, and internally I feel like jumping for joy and throwing boxes of confetti everywhere, other people’s reactions to this news have been so animated that it feels more appropriate if I just smile and nod. Someone’s got to keep a level head about it. There’s a lot of paperwork to fill out and all sorts of dates and times and things to confirm. It’s certainly helpful that I’ve recently gotten myself so much more organized.

Sometime near the end of this month I’ll be starting training, a several week process that—I believe—requires that I get ACDT and ACPT certified. I’ll be taking these courses at the Apple campus in California, so this is also a heads-up that I’m going to be out of town for a few weeks soon. (I wonder if the classes will incorporate any information on the new Intel iMacs and MacBooks)

In between all of this preparation regarding new employment, I’ve been doing several web design projects, as well as my usual bouts of tinkering and researching. I’ve had quite a full plate and been enjoying successes in all these areas. As an added bonus, I finally got my new cell phone today which means that I can now be reached at the cell number you have for me. I’m thinking of getting the black swivel holster for it as well.

Unfortunately, Sara’s not been as happy as I have lately, though this contrast between our respective mood baselines has been enlightening. It’s sad that I seem to need to see someone else depressed to notice the fact that I haven’t been depressed in a long time, but it sure does highlight that fact. It also indirectly highlights quite a few others that have shown me just how far along I’ve come from my not-so-distant and very depressed past.

1. I’m able to self-motivate a lot better than I used to be able to do.
2. I’m able to keep timed committments a lot more reliably than I used to be able to.
3. I’m far more able to foresee, manage, and generate financial income than I used to be able to, even if most of my sources of income still rely heavily on connections from family and friends. (That is, I’m able to perform more money-making actions.)

In any event, I’m looking forward to the rest of 2006 with a little more confidence than I faced 2005 with.

This road trip is coming to an end. Sara and I are in New York City for a few days before heading on to drop the car off in Maine. We’ve amassed what must be some hundred over a thousand pictures from the trip, but I’m afraid only a handful will last.

I’ve spent today troubleshooting my HP Pavillion laptop computer after it and Windows XP crashed last night. It died in a sudden death shutdown (a symptom of overheating, which I had noticed getting worse for a while) and wouldn’t start up—not even in safe mode. It hung (froze) on atisgkaf.sys and wouldn’t load any more drivers during the boot process.

I’ve been using the MicroSoft Recovery Console™ from the original installation CD to attempt to recover a previous restore point as described in the linked article. At first things seemed hopeful. After deleting the appropriate files in c:\windows\system32\config, the computer booted into Windows. But only for a few minutes before experiencing sudden death shutdown again.

Unfortunately, a few more attemps yielded no further success until finally running chkdsk from the Recovery Console yielded this depressing message.

The volume appears to contain one or more unrecoverable problems.

This message usually appears when there is a hardware problem such as, I’m afraid, a (physical) hard drive failure. Ultimately, this means that all those pictures from the road trip I’ve just been on for the past two and a half months might be lost for good. And that is depressing.

However, after yet another reboot into the Recovery Console, chkdsk /r is reporting the following hope-inspiring message:

[…]
CHKDSK is checking the volume...
[…]
29% completed.

So, I guess we’ll see.

I have been staving off a valley in my mood cycle for a while now. That is, I’ve been trying to and have been cycling rather noticably in the past two weeks. I have felt the echoes of very familiar demons inside my head.

Earlier today, after I spent the day at the Bronx Zoo, my moods took a dip and I felt my head begin to spiral out of control. I feel like I’m drowning…like falling into black ooze, I later told Sara. It’s frustrating; I’m so still and quiet on the outside and I’m screaming on the inside. And then I’m screaming at myself, telling myself to talk so that other people around me—so that you—can understand me. …It’s hard to talk or to move. I feel like stone.

I see no way for me to do that moment justice by describing it. Frozen, I squeezed her hand when she passed by to check on me. She stayed with me for the next half hour telling me a story until I could speak again.

Thank you, love.

Some excerpts for a search for “have money” on 43 Things:

• not have to worry about money (30 people)
• have more money (16 people)
• Have enough money (11 people)
• have a lot of money (8 people)
• Have enough money, to not worry about having enough money (7 people)
• never have to worry about money (4 people)
• have money to give away (3 people)
• have money in savings (2 people)
• have my own money (2 people)
• have lots of money to spend (2 people)
• have more money in the bank (2 people)
• Have freedom AND money (1 person)
• work and have money (1 person)
• have money to splurge (1 person)
• have loads of money (1 person)
• […]I admit it
  is a pity to have money as an ideal in your l[ife…] (1 person)
• have enough money that we don’t have to worry anymore about doctor bills. (1 person)
• have time and money to travel (1 person)
• have oodles of money in the bank (1 person)
• have more money than i can spend (2 people)
• have money enough to live well (2 people)
• have money to bless people (1 person)
• have no money problems (1 person)
• always have spare money (1 person)
• have no worry about money (1 person)
• have enough money for me and my family (1 person)
• Have enough money for college (1 person)
• have enough money to be happy~ (1 person)
• make money without having a job (1 person)
• Have a better attitude to money (1 person)
• have lots of money to buy games (1 person)
• go parachute jumping (if I ever have the money ;p) (1 person)
• have an idea to make big money (1 person)
• have extra money to shop with. (1 person)
• Have suffient money all the time (1 person)
• not have to worry about money anymore (1 person)
• not have to worry about the lack of money (1 person)
• Have enough money to travel the world (1 person)
• have more money than I know what to do with (2 people)
• do not have to think about money (1 person)
• Have enough money to accomplish my goals (1 person)
• have money enough to sponsor my kids (1 person)
• Have enough money to live comfortably (1 person)
• always have more than enough money to do what I want to do and have enough free time to enjoy it (1 person)
• save money to have the wedding of my dreams (1 person)
• have more money to accomplish my plans (1 person)
• make better money and have a nice house (1 person)
• Have money to help people less fortunate than me (1 person)
• have lots of money (to aid process of [my] goals[…]) (1 person)
• have money for my family and be happy with my life (1 person)
• have enough money to buy whatever I want (1 person)
• make enough to never have to worry about money (1 person)
• have money to buy all the books that i want (1 person)
• have money to pay all my bills forever (1 person)
• take care of my mother when i have enough money (1 person)
• Always have enough money to buy a book (1 person)
• i want to not have to worry about money, ever (1 person)
• Save money for a car. (1 person)
• control money better (1 person)
• win a lot of money (1 person)
• Not need money (1 person)
• Actually Save Money (1 person)
• not running out of money (1 person)
• Make money from mixes (1 person)
• make money to travel (1 person)
• make money after retirement (1 person)
• not stress out about money (1 person)
• save money for the summer (1 person)
• Earn money for a laptop (1 person)
• save money for guitar (1 person)
• earn money myself (1 person)

Went to the NYC Graphic Design Meetup tonight. Nothing special to report. What had a greater effect on me than going to the Meetup today was the location it was held. Downtown on the lower east side, by the bowery.

I used to frequent that area quite a bit in two very different and very distinct times in my past. The first was when I was attending the MDSG (that’s Mood Disorders Support Group) at Beth Israel hospital. I was doing that for almost two years from ages fourteen to sixteen. The meetings were always held at night and for some reason I remember only the nights when it rained.

The second period was after I had turned eighteen and was frequenting fetish clubs and BDSM organizations in the area. (There are plenty.) Naturally, this was also done late at night. Similarly, for some reason, I can only remember the nights when it rained.

There were not many times when Danica and I made it all the way out to the far East of Manhattan. Nevertheless, the lower East side feels like a black hole to me, a black hole I am familiar with from the inside out. While walking towards the Meetup, passing Lafayette Street and peering up at Bond Street, it started raining lightly. I quickened my pace and found the Meetup location.

It was being held at a bar whose year-long theme was the Haiwaiin Islands. Somehow, the contrast of the environment in the bar and the dreary rain growing stronger outside made things seem even worse. Though one would guess that I had an awful time, I actually was very glad to be out at the Meetup socializing, even though I was underwhelmed by the resulting attendance. (I was one of four people who arrived, and I spent much of my time chatting nonsensically about this or that, until I started imparting some of my web accessibility knowledge to the others and inviting them to the meetups I organize.)

Afterwards, I did not want to go home. The rain was stronger now, and it seemed like either the black hole was sucking me in or I was trying to push it away. I can’t tell which.

I was carrying a letter in my bag from Con-Ed addressed to Danica (probably an old electric bill or notice) and had intended to put it in a mailbox (I had slipped it in a new envelope and supplied her new address). As I walked on West 4^th, parallel to Bleeker, I kept seeing flashbacks to all the times in my life I had walked these same streets before. I saw ghosts of myself beside me and in front of me, laughing, walking, talking, joking, rushing from place to place as I knew I had in the past.

Now that I think about it I want nothing more than to leave this City and spend a significant portion of my life elsewhere. I can’t stand seeing the same places over and over again. I have a memory for every street corner on this island and tonight I feel trapped by my past.

I ended up walking up Greenwhich Avenue towards Danica’s apartment building. I figured I’d leave her the letter in the lobby on top of her mailbox rather than send it through the post. I called her but she didn’t answer at first, so I left her a message. Then, when I was a few blocks away from her apartment, she called me and tried to tell me something but her phone cut out and we got disconnected.

I left her the Con-Ed letter on her mailbox as I planned and then stood outside under the awning for a few moments, watching the rain. Somehow I had the presence of mind to snap this photo while I was there:

You can’t see it in the photo because I’m a horrible photographer but I was looking at the small halo of light from the lampost. Streaks of rain were cutting through it and the whole scene made me feel rather heavy and depressed.

I looked down West 12^th Street towards West 4^th (yeah, the roads are screwy down there), then up the way I’d come at Greenwhich Avenue. I still didn’t really want to go home but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

I think I didn’t want to go home because I still don’t feel like this place, this one bedroom apartment with a bare minimum of furniture and no personality, is my home. And you know…I don’t know if I even want it to be my home. I just don’t want to live here anymore.

So I pulled myself together, put away the camera, and started back towards Greenwhich Avenue to head for the A train to come back here. Near the corner, I realized I didn’t have much food at home, so I made a quick pit-stop into Benny’s Burritos To Go. I used to frequent this joint quite a bit back when Danica and I lived together on Horatio Street.

I knew before I entered what I was going to order: A pulled chicken burrito with black beans (not pinto beans). The same girl took my order as always.

When I left, dinner in hand (well, lunch), I passed the corner of West 13^th and Horatio Streets. I looked down Horatio Street as I walked towards the subway and felt a strong urge to turn towards it and walk back to that tiny, rat-infested apartment the two of us used to live in as if when I got there all of our things would be in their place and I could sit down on the floor like I always had to do to eat my burrito.

But I didn’t. I made it to the subway and stood, waiting for the A train to arrive. I buried myself in my Information Architecture for the World Wide Web book (the book I started reading on the last day of jury duty) but found it difficult to concentrate. (I still did manage to finish the chapter I was on though, because it really is just that great of a book.)

I got home starving, ate my burrito, surfed online or a while, talked with online friends, and tried my best to shake these feelings. I did a good job of it, too. For most of the night I didn’t remember the heaviness I felt looking at the rain earlier.

Earlier today, I was surprisingly productive. I finished refactoring the CSS for the NYCwireless web site (that’s the volunteer web design work I talked about a while ago), and I set up a bunch more Meetups for myself to go to. I’m organizing the New York City Freelancer’s Meetup, which I’ve cleverly scheduled for the same place and time as the New York City Consultants Meetup. Both of these Meetups happen today (that is, the 28^th of March) at eight in the evening.

I may also get to see an old friend tonight at nine, after the Meetups. I’m anxious about that because I’m looking forward to seeing him for the first time in many months and because I don’t know what impact certain other events may have had on the matter. (I should probably write about this but, eh, not now.)

As usual, hours are going by and I’m still not in bed. I hope sleep will come quickly and mercifully now. I really need to feel like time is moving forward and things are happening. I just don’t want to stay in this…place my whole life.