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Friday December 01, 2000, 00:58

A new month crept up, and I was not there to welcome it. With December usually comes snow and Holiday things, but not usually the outpouring of emotion for me. But tonight, as I sat watching evening television and felt myself on the verge of tears, it was time for a bit of reflection, to wonder what exactly is missing, where this emptiness comes from.

So as to catch it in time for the New Year.

Momentarily I tried to go back one year, to that first year out of school when I had just moved and was starting a new life, with new people - old friends, but new life. The futility of that act boggles the mind as I realize that it's not really a time to dwell. This year I will get to do what I've been waiting to do for a very long time. The sweltering heat of summer holds no appeal for me, but winter, winter in New York sounds just magical and conjures images of sleighs being pulled by horses through Central Park.

Images, just images as I know that the reality of it is more yellow, packed slush than fluffy, white snow, but the image is what's important when we are dealing with a view out the window that consists of the occasional automobile passing by, where the only sounds in the house come from the purring of the computer (and the lamp, for that matter, a lamp that was pulled from a dumpster several years ago) and the snoring of my dog.

I blame the clutter that surrounds me. My possessions strewn about this house. But that's not really fair. There is no blame to be had here, simply more adjustment to a transition period of my life. Indeed the crux of this problem stems from the fact that any good change needs a transition, but what does it mean to transition into a temporary situation? Does it mean to put much time and effort into said situation, knowing that the payoff will most likely be unnecessary once completed? Or does it just mean staggering about through the transition, calling that the transition instead?

I'll sleep on it.

Fear sets in as I put myself to bed this evening as I prepare myself for a meeting tomorrow that finds me in unfamiliar territory and well out of my element. Wishing for no embarrassing moments and hoping for a jolly good time (in keeping with the holiday spirit).

I'm heading back to the theatre. Does the real world have sleepless nights and Coke and Saltines (the only two brand names really worthy of my time in theatres) and that satisfaction of knowing that you did something pretty cool for people to pat you on the back about and say "wow!" over and over again? Does getting paid for it mean that it's not going to be any good any more?

I'll find out soon enough.

Also lost: streams of consciousness. I think I packed them with my books and photo albums.

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