i can't go to greece alone

I realized I haven't been clear on what my (latest) plans are for my life. The truth is that they change twice a day, but my current plan, due to many factors and after tons of deliberating and pro-conning and advice from others, is to accept a potential five month long position at the organization where I am doing AmeriCorps. It would mean another tax season, it would mean staying in Philadelphia until May, it would mean not going to Greece and it would mean having a lot of money by the time the job ends on my birthday.

At first I viewed it as misery+a lot of money vs. making the less intelligent decision while following my heart or whatever but I think I should just be able to turn it into happiness+a lot of money or at least not misery.

I think the best way to do this, if I do it, is to treat it as something different, because I was so ready to move out of this apartment and this state and leave a lot of bad feelings behind, at least for a few months. I hate avoiding people but I hate confronting people and every bridge burned in my whole life is likely to pop up in Philadelphia.

"treat it as something different" = make new/more friends, make more plans, take Greek classes at this church in Broomall, and learn to play the goddamn drums myself. Maybe join a gym since winter blues could probably be fended off with a nice dose of serotonin and since I'll have money to do more self-indulgent things that I would otherwise scoff at. Get a kitchen table so I can sit down when I eat, drink tea, write letters and therefore feel less like a crazy person. Get a futon to sit on so our apartment is more comfortable for us and guests, and we can invite people to sleep over and not in my bed. We already got three new goldfish. Winken, Blinken and Nod. We haven't actually given them names but that just popped into my head.

one other thought: If I move far away, I won't be able to run home to Mountaintop to decompress when life, you know, hands me lemons or whatever. I might just explode.

Anyway, it's weird to think that I no longer talk [much] to hardly any of the people who know me best. If you take the time to read this nonsense you should probably just come sit at my new kitchen table and we can drink tea and tell each other what we really think.

Phooey, I say, on all white-shoe college boys

who edit their campus literary magazines.

Give me an honest con man any day.

j.d.s.