Who Figures An Immigrant Is Going To Have A Pony?

Has it been thirteen days?

Well, let's see.

I was tired.

So I slept for two whole days.

I've utterly destroyed my couch I've spent so much time on it in the last week. I've become unstoppable in Tiger Woods Golf. I've seen Empire Records six times, Wimbledon four times, Seabiscuit three times, and A Man Apart twice. No one should have to see A Man Apart twice.

I've watched infomercials for dehydraters, rehydraters, and ultra-slim super-hydraters. I've seen every repeat of West Wing ever and am therefore convinced that with a little elbow grease and a really talented Chief-of-Staff I could run the country. I've watched the same episode of Celebrity Poker so many times that I know all of Shannon Elizabeth's tells. And know that they don't matter since if she'd ask the other players would just give her their chips. Can't really blame them.

I've watched certain scenes in The Phantom of The Opera many, many times. Read the same article in Newsweek over and over again. And listened to the same Audioslave song so often I know all the words.

I've had a few drinks, hung out with friends, and even got my first lap dance. It was nice, but awkward, we mostly just talked. Ain't that just me?

I want to go to Canada. Just for a bit. Just for kicks.

I've realized some things too.

I used to walk more, drive more, just plain get out more. I used to wander more. I wanted that back. So the other day I just drove, drove till my damn tires went flat. And when I put air back in them I started driving again. Don't know where I went, or why I went there, but for awhile I was gone. And that felt good.

I've started taking nightly walks. Short walks, quiet walks. Nothing too spectacular. I walked to CVS for milk last night and when I found that they were out I wasn't all that disappointed. I bought an iced tea and just kept walking for a bit.

I didn't realize how much I've put off in the past year. How much of me I've let sit by the side. I knew I wasn't all there, but...

As I walked through the rain last night I thought of people. All the people I've known. The ones I see, how they've changed. The ones I've lost, how I imagine they've become. The ones I miss, and the hopes I would have for them. I thought of running into people, and saying goodbye to people. Of finding people I thought I would never see again. I don't know...I just don't.

Things have been quiet, I don't leave my apartment most days. I just sit here now, trying to get myself to a new place. I'll get bored soon. I can't just go on like this indefinitely. If I don't get results soon I change things. I'll call up the guys and go grab a drink, or head north for a spot of vacation, I'll get a job in a bookstore, or start writing again. I could just disappear. Or not.

I don't know. I'll figure it out as I go. No sweat.

I'm twenty-four years old, I've quit my job, put myself in a lonely place and laid my options out in a neat little line. I'm not starting over again, not rewriting the whole damn book. I could live with things going back to the way they were. Not perfect, but not too shabby either. The middle doesn't matter, the middle's for shits and giggles. There's something else I'm worried about. I've said it before and will say it again.

I think I need a new ending.

It's going to be one hell of a fight. Looks like fun.