Tomorrow I go alone to the Sonoran desert of Arizona to let life intervene. The only plan is that there is no plan. I am now confronted with insecurities that I long ignored, after a year of having nearly every single day planned hour by hour by hour. Sleep at 9. Up at 5 - study. Class. Find time to eat. Study. Walk dog. Try to see a friend. Coffee. Sleep. It was a cycle in which I lost a connection with my self. I am happy for the year, despite this: it was a triumph of straight A's, still making time to take trips and so on. But I cant remember a day where I had some time to stop and really take stock of my place in time and space. Lost in a routine. This upcoming year will only prove itself more hectic, more expensive, and more stressful. I've lost my muse.


It's an unavoidable cliche, but there is something to the American road that prompts discovery of physical place and equally the nonphysical. I want the red rocks, the stretches of highway, to engage me the way textbooks and concrete steps cannot. Let it come alive again.