This is sort of how I feel in general right now. I am a patient, etherised, upon a table.

We were trying to decide, last night, if there is a such thing as Fate. Do things happen for a reason? Are things "meant to be"? Or is that just another comforting lie? And do we hate the concept of Fate, or do we hate Fate itself? Because man, I feel the need to hate something.

I reached no conclusions about Fate. Some days I believe in it; other days I don't. I do know that I would like to be absolved of responsibility for the current state of my life. I would like to blame Fate for putting me in this awkward box, and leaving me here. Most of all, I would like to leave it up to Fate to get me out.

I know that I've been trying to make changes. Not as hard as I could have been, but as hard as I could. And I also know that I've been blocked, externally and internally, from getting anywhere. My life has changed before. I've watched it, I've cheered it, I've engineered it. Why is it so hard this time?

Maybe I need acupuncture. Or therapy. Or a motivational speaker. Hell, maybe I need a Scientologist to come at me with an e-Meter and destroy my psychic raisins. I need something, and I'm not getting it. Is it something I already possess? Is it something that I already know? I don't know. I am sprawled and wriggling on a pin.

I have been sensing change in the air. Some sort of crackle that whispers, This is it. I almost can't bear to articulate it, because I'm so afraid that it might not happen. I know change is normally something to be feared, but I am ready to embrace change. I am ready to take the next step, whatever it is.

What is it?

Megan said I should just move somewhere. Move somewhere that appeals to me, or maybe someplace extremely random. I've been toying with the idea, you know. I have a big map. The only thing stopping me is the fact that I don't have any darts to throw at it.

One good thing: I'm writing again. A poem about my grandmother, a poem about coffee, 2000 words of a terrible novel. There is some kind of thaw happening in my creative life, and I'm so glad. I hope that's not the whole thaw, though.

The crackle-- I could be imagining it. Then again, it could be that my imaginings will eventually will it into existence.

And what do I want the winds of change to blow into my life? I want the following. 1.) A grownup-person job that will stop my father from making up complete lies about what I do for a living. 2.) An actual apartment, in which I live like a grownup, and do not worry about rent money, because I make a grownup income. 3.) A functional relationship. A grownup relationship. A relationship that does not gnaw at my heart like a cancer.

I could count my blessings too, I suppose. But I think you already know what they are. Believe me, I'm conscious of them as well. I'm not living in day-to-day misery, just ennui. Just malaise. Just a vague desire for the winds of change to live up to their promise and change something. One letter of acceptance. One job interview. One possibility that pans out. So blow me, winds of change!

Just blow me.