What with the rain and all, I hadn't been outside all day. I applied for a couple of jobs and did some nosing around job listings without much inspiration or success. When the rain was a spitting drizzle at dusk, I decided I should take a walk just because I could.
I can't say that it cheered me at all. The beauty of the buildings on 8th Avenue is so pleasant that my spirits droop at the thought that I won't be here long. And that I don't belong here. This comfortable life is not for me. Of course one feels "on the outside looking in" when that is exactly what one is doing, looking into the warm light of family dining rooms, living rooms, and studies from the darkening street.
It may sound as if I am just whining. But I am struggling with even the notion of "my place" in the world. What does that mean? How does one know? Can adjustments be made?
And maybe the overcast day weighed on me, too.