I’ve been thrown into the past! I spilled orange juice on my laptop and now I’m on an old Mac, with an ancient version of Instant Messenger running in the background, hearing sounds I haven’t heard since I was in love with this guy and my heart would pound whenever I heard that door-opening sound effect it made every time he appeared.

I remember how terrified I was to switch from this operating system to my new computer and OS X, it was so completely different. But it was wonderfully, unendingly better. I don’t like being back here. I’ve just been saying on Echo how I want to pick a subject for my next book that puts me in a whole new world for a while. Living in Durham for a few months showed me that I would like that (although I did get terribly homesick, I love New York so much).

Change change change change change. Love it, hate it. That guy will never again come through that tiny IM door, even though my heart still pounds.

Maybe the problem isn’t change so much, it’s that we are not in charge of when or how it comes about.

What should I write about next? If I get the chance to write again? I’m saying that to appease the gods of change, knowing how they like to mess with me. The bastards.