In moving to Boston and graduate school I have hoped for certain changes in the way that life feels. On a superficial level, I'm looking forward to seasons and a place where the wilds of nature are always encroaching on civilization, whether it be storms or greenery. Inwardly, I yearn to pull off an end to lonliness or at least find myself so stimulated by the culture that any isolation feels part of a process. Here in California my lonliness is stagnant. No one of any significance has penetrated my life here for nearly two years. In fact my one-week tour in the Alps was more socially lubricating than anything I have felt here. I long for a day when I feel acompanied at the start and ends of my days--when physical contact can be reciprocal.
I trust that Boston will provide me many good distractions and reward me a few lifetime friendships. I think months of studying urban planning will refresh my conscience, which has soured from useless endeavors and continual periods of hope and defeat.
Music evades me right now. Dance is not existant. Romance is imaginary. Food and sleep are my only nurishments, except when I chance to travel or converse in foreign tongues. I'm betting on being rescued by academia and one of thirteen original colonies.
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