it's a shoreline and it's half speed

i'm totally disoriented in the suburbs. i take long showers and fall asleep by the pool and drink vodka and eat like a condemned man and keep trying to figure out what the one big thing is i forgot to do and won't realize until the plane takes off and then that "home alone" moment happens and i scream, "change of address!"

it's getting desperate around here. i've been left to my own devices for too many hours at a time. i suppose today i could start packing. or, i could listen to "i have a dream" from the new "mamma mia" movie on repeat all afternoon. somebody pass the svedka and the headphones, this song is my jam.

not that i've seen "mamma mia" or have any particular affinity for musicals, but much in the way that if "wall-e" had found me on a particularly hormonal day, i would have needed a direct line of xanax and an escort out of the theater, "i have a dream" plays epic symphonies on my heartstrings.

and this happens, i think, this emotional swelling, this desire for melodrama, when life changes so devastatingly much. alas, i've come to realize that i've been reduced to material nothingness. i once again have no job, no home, no boyfriend, and no idea how all of this is going to work out. how terribly bizarre, to be back at that point again, and to realize how all of it is so different to me now. i'm entirely content with the groundlessness of my life. a little intimidated, slightly nervous, somewhat aghast, but completely empowered by the responsibility i now have to build up a life for myself again.

times like these just call for a little abba.