I have not written in this blog for so long. There's probably good reason for that.

Let me explain what is happening right now, at least.

It's 6:50 on a Saturday morning. I've been awake for about an hour now. "The girls" came over last night (I am becoming more and more of a typical American girl every day now) and my roommate had us all do tequila shots. When tequila hits my brain, I go to sleep within an hour or so. I fell asleep before the party even started.

And so I woke up at 5:50, surprised, a little upset with myself, but pleased with the opportunity for solitude. I've emailed my boyfriend, read through this old thing, putzed around the internet, gotten a glass of water. It's so funny to read the things that I've written here. And so sad, too, to be honest. I was in a bad space for a long time. Things feel different now. I know what caused the change, too. So here is an entry in this silly old blog about why I don't feel many of the things I wrote about in it.

First of all, Viktor Frankl was right. Having purpose and meaning in one's life is really the only reason to keep pushing through, especially when that purpose and meaning involves others. This job has given me that sense of meaning. I now feel like I have a cause to which I can dedicate myself. The vast separation of urban black America and suburban white America is the civil rights movement of our time. (I know, I know, gay marriage...but seriously, come to Detroit, and I'll show you why I prioritized it.) I want to keep working on this issue once my term is up here. I'm not sure how, of course, but I finally have a real fire in my belly. Yes, I loved music, and yes, I'm a little sad that I've pushed it out of the center of my life, but music is so selfish sometimes. I have to sit alone for hours on end writing, and although that appeals to me, the amount of good done for others per hour is significantly lower than what I'm doing now. You dig? And who says any music I write would have made any difference anyway? This way I know I'm doing something impactful for sure.

The other thing that has changed are my relationships. I am in love in a much more real way than seventeen-year-old me could ever have imagined. It blows me away sometimes to listen to him speak and realize just how well-suited we are for each other. And the way he looks at me. I don't think I have ever been loved this much, in this way, in my life. (I throw in the "this way" caveat in order to protect my mother's interests as being the one who loves me the most, in a mom-way.) I spend time with him whenever possible. Sometimes he comes over entirely to sleep, because both of our days have been long and our schedules don't always match, but it feels good to wake up to each other. He loves me more than I love myself most days, and that's okay. I love him more than I can articulate.

My friendships also fall under the category of changing relationships. I think I am figuring out what I want out of friendships. (Mainly, mutual respect, understanding, and a similar worldview.) I only have the time and energy for a select few friendships, so it is a process for me to weed out the ones that will tap my reserves only to leave me with nothing in return. I like the friends I have now. I have a good boyfriend, good roommates, a few good co-workers, and a few good old friends that I keep in touch with. And that's all I need, really.

I think I might try to go back to sleep for an hour or so in order to wake up with the crowd. I haven't written in so long, though - this feels good. Maybe I'll be back soon.

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