What's alarming to me is that everyone and their mother here at school are so concerned with what they're going to do next semester, next year, after they're done with school, for the rest of their lives... and I just kind of feel apathetic about it. Some part of me makes me think that maybe I'm going to die or something because I don't see myself in ten years. I'm not Jedi master Yoda, though, so I don't expect me to be able to see the future. And I'm not Dr. Manhattan - I don't think I should be able to see my path. However, something inherently tells me, whether I'm alive or dead or not, I'm going to be okay.
The rough plan, at this point (and let me warn you, it is VERY rough) is to graduate, save some money, go to Berlin and Europe, come home for the holidays, work and save enough money to move to NYC with Melissa. Between now and then I plan to finish my novel, then maybe try to shop it around. I also want to publish a few articles, one of which I've already written but am too shart-scared to send anywhere.
Everyone has a plan except me. It was like that semester that I wasn't in school, and my rent was really cheap, and I was working all the time, and all I did was go out to eat and drink with Amar. He would say, "Julian, I love how you and I are the only ones not on a budget." And I'd smile and look off and know there was nothing to fear.
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