Livejournal. Wow. Back to my roots. Regardless of how many things used to infuriate me about this site, I can still dig the clean layout (compared to, say, Xanga, where I lurked around for quite some time). I'd forgotten all about this account, and that I'd deleted every angst-ridden post I'd written prior to May 2005. And the ones from that point forward -- the two that remained, that is -- are now gone forever as well. Ashes to ashes, digital dust to digital dust.
So, here I am, back on Long Island. What it boils down to is that, though I wasn't completely satisfied with Boston, it was certainly a step up from what I've been thrust back into. I'm missing a lot of things, but most of all the freedom of living (mostly) on my own and constantly being in the company of people that I care about, family notwithstanding. Instantly, I have been reminded of why I wanted to leave in the first place. Three and a half months of this torture left. Perhaps it will pick up, though I doubt it... unless, of course, I can meet some people (which would happen at a job, which would require me to get one, which would mean I have to stop being so lethargic (god, I like parenthetical notes)).
Freshman year was a trip to say the least: to say that I changed would simply be a massive understatement. I can, in all honesty, say that I have returned as a completely different person. Sure, I'm a bit more jaded, but I have learned oh so much about others and about myself. I couldn't even begin to enumerate said metamorphoses. Maybe everyone feels this way after their first year. I don't know.
Not everything, however, worked out for the best. Overall, I feel more lost than ever. I decided within the first semester that audio was not my major, despite the fact that I never had any experience with said major. Film is now what I think I'd like to do; but even that leads to yet another question, that of what I should concentrate on. Screenwriting? Editing? Directing? Do I even want to stay at Emerson?
Ideally, this summer will send me in the right direction, but there's always the chance that it will not. The underlying depression that seemed to set in second semester only intensified when I returned home. Never before had I been that low for such long periods of time, to the point where I felt destructive and insane and all of those lovely things. Driving around alone on Jericho Turnpike at odd hours of the night (morning? post-midnight), I'm left to my own thoughts and internal monologues and, well, ... I don't know what to say about that. Hopefully these things will subside. I don't know what to do if they do not.
In the meantime, I have GOT to find ways of keeping myself occupied. Aside from a select few, friends seem to be unreliable yet again, so that isn't a stable thing. My acoustic, which finally has its own stand, mocks me from the corner of my room. Doubly annoying is the fact that it's positioned next to a framed Built to Spill poster, which I have yet to hang up, as if to say "you'll never be that good." Or any good, for that matter. I'll try to try again, though. Perhaps set some goals, time-wise. I've also been trying to read again everyday, and when my dad orders Netflix, I'll catch up on all of the cinematic masterpieces I've missed out on. Until then, I'll keep myself occupied with some shows I've been downloading (Sopranos, Six Feet Under, UK version of The Office, Pete & Pete, Weeds, Planet Earth hell yeah!). And probably boring a non-existent audience with this drivel. Oh! Maybe attempting a screenplay.
That's that. G'night, folks.