every day something changes.

It took me a little longer than I expected, but I instated my new blog today. It's about time. I switched to WordPress because there is more freedom and because the music blog I worked for before I left for New Zealand taught me how to use it. It's just prettier in general, I think.

So here's the new location: http://carriemelissa.wordpress.com/.

See you there, I hope.

changing every day.

It has been a long time, and I need to wipe myself clean of this. This blog has held a lot of secrets of mine. They are disorganized, jumbled, idealized, and also very real to me. Reading them makes my heart twist. I feel I can wring it out and let it dry.

I am home again, one year after my first homecoming. It feels the same, but much more open. I feel I have the courage and confidence to find a job this time around, now that I've given it some time.

Tomorrow begins my quest, and so tomorrow begins the beginning of a new way of chronicling the new journey. It will be a bit more cheeky, probably less personal (sometimes my heart aches at how personal I've been here, and I know all of this is deeply true and deeply open, and that is what hurts), and more helpful to the random reader. I will post the web address here tomorrow for anyone who may actually still read this dusty chronicle of my post-adolescence.

a short summation of close to half a year.

Somehow five months have passed. I've traveled and I've swum in the ocean on Christmas. I've eaten beans on toast and been to crazy parties. I've laid on the pebbles at the beach until 6 am (later, I found the pebbles down my pants). I've watched the sun rise from Mt. Doom and cried myself to sleep. I've read and I've pulled weeds and sat in the burning sunlight all afternoon. I've gotten numerous sunburns and some have even turned into suntans.

For the moment, I am settled. I spend my days with people from all over the world and fall asleep with the television on. Then I wake up at 5 in the morning and do it all again.

I have no home, but each day I make it work. I define home in new ways, through new people. And last night, I fell asleep in someone else's bed.

I am sorry I can't write more, but life moves too quickly. But my tattoo is constantly reminding me that I need to get myself together and keep writing. When I get home again, I will write every day. Or something.