Go home, Meagan

Wow. The last few weeks have been pretty crazy. I think I've drank every day, and I don't feel bad about it, for the most part. I've had a lot of fun, with a lot of different people... But I've also lost my car, my 35mm camera and I'm more broke than I have ever been. I'm barely going to make it home with what I have, and people keep asking for trade shoots, instead of wanting to pay me, which really bums me out. I love working with people I want to work with, I love modeling, I love photography and being a part of it from both ends of the camera... but I need to make money, and it doesn't seem to be happening. I'm sick of searching people out, of playing the money game... So the only option left to do is break down, go home to my grandmother's and get a couple shitty jobs and work that way. The right way, I guess. I suppose it was too much to think that this could be somewhat easy, and a hell of a lot more fun. But I've had my fun, and it's time to go home.

I've been crying a lot today, for many different reasons. I have a lot to say, but my platform seems lost to me, at the moment. I have a typewriter finally, but not I don't have the money to develop my film when I get home. I wish I had my car still, I feel really lost without it.

Why does misery bring so much inspiration? I'd rather be happy and inspired, but I don't know if I've ever been happy. I feel truly insatiable.

8 o'clock in Charlottesville

It's eight AM in Charlottesville, and here I sit at a little coffee shop where my friend works, both waiting for the time when I have to leave, my bags draped around me like the weird hobo that I am to walk to the train station and head back North. I have just enough money to get me back to NYC and not much else, and while I do worry about that, I can't seem to care much at the moment. There's no point really.

I'm sad I wont be going back to school this semester. As the dates dwindle down summer and closer to the beginning of the school year, I feel the pull to be going back. I miss the darkroom a lot, though I am disappointed in my work for the summer. I'm confused about what to do with my time, energy, money, etc. Sortof sitting in the eye of a storm and instead of preparing or ripping into it myself, drawing on it's energy, I stay there, looking up and wondering who I am and what I'm doing here.

I guess not much has changed. I try not to be down, to instead just be steady in my own somber attitude. "Serious" as my friend would say, "I'm a serious person". And I believe myself to be a serious person, too, serious thinking most of the time, at least. I think in prose and poetry and love, albeit chaotic and confusing... Sometimes angry.

Life is so full of options, you know? At any point on any day, I have so many choices to make, that I could make... some of which would change my life completely. It seems that NYC wants me though, or my heart wants NYC... Even if I long to return to the safety of my school and my hated Utica. There is comfort and normalcy in it that I love and despise there...

So much of me is a rebellious heart and soul, and until somewhere around 7th grade, I thought everyone was that way. I remember sitting in social studies and having our teacher give us this kind of sociology quiz about human behavior and such, asking what we thought was true or not. The only question I remember asked about whether most people prefered structured routine over a more spontanious life and I was so sure in the latter, and shocked to find that false.

Sometimes I think about that and I still don't know what to think of it.