Antsy

If I could be more antsy, I think I would be pacing the floors madly. I would walk up a path about two yards long, and then turn abruptly on my heels and walk back. There would be no nonsense in this action. I would probably whistle as I paced. Not a happy go lucky tune, but something like a fight song, or one of the battle songs of early America.

I think that we finally found an apartment. This may be contributing to my over zealous need to move, sway, pace, bike, and create. I think that if a team of psychologists studied my nervous behavior, I would be immediately put on some sort of calming drug.

It can not be contributed to change in diet or intake of caffeine. It must be Spring fever, compounded by the need for a vacation (out of state, country, or the such), complicated by the uncertain nature of my near future, and finally viewed by myself as somewhat of a quarter life crisis.

This may sound like a desperate state, but surprisingly I am happy, and do not feel the need to adjust my course as of yet.

All that I know that I need is to go swimming. I need a good afternoon at the ocean, on a beach, surrounded by no one who cares what I look like.