journal entry from august.

**um....this explains most of my recent story. tho' i was a little cranky when i wrote it. oops.**

So, I'm walking home from work last night. and the air is thick and moist and hot, and coats my throat as i'm walking and dripping premenstrual tears of loneliness, when i pass by the back of the unitarian church.

there's smooth swing music melting from the open windows, and inside, against the background of deep red walls, several couples are smiling, and dancing, and spinning around. it's a swing class. they're trying creative moves - sliding this way, pulling that way, twirling left, right, and across the floor. other classmates are standing by the wall, practicing steps, watching or chatting.

and i stood outside watching this scene. and the summer rain was dripping on my humidified hair. and my cheeks were wet with self-pity. and i thought "well, isn't this a perfect freaking metaphor."

alone, wet, outside of a warm happy coccoon of couplehood.

so, i'm doing something. i'm running away from my loneliness, on a cross country trip that will zig zag most of the continent in search of friend's floors to sleep on. i'm running to california (where does everyone go?). i'm one of those people - the ones who "go west" to "figure stuff out." i used to hate those people.