It's very pretty, but how much does it cost?

In the past two weeks, I've been freaking out about the future. Looking at plane tickets home for Gem and Mark's wedding has raised all sorts of questions, the most pressing of which is whether to buy a one way flight or round trip. There are lots of questions about London, and how viable it is to stay here, and why I want to stay here, and how much. There are questions about where else in the world I'd like to be, and who I'd like to be with, and what kind of community I want to be a part of. There are questions about the kind of art I want to make, and how I want to make it, and with whom. There are questions about how much I want to keep moving, and how much I want to settle, and how much all of this is going to cost. The sheer unbridled possibility of it all has become a little less thrilling, a little more stressful.

In the past ten days, I've looked at flights to Puerto Rico, Seattle, and Bangalore. I've become production assistant/stage manager for the next Finger in the Pie show, which starts rehearsals in two weeks. I've listened to Andy talk about the theatre company he's starting in Mankato. I've thought about living in North Carolina, about doing a clown workshop in Boulder, and about how much all of this is going to cost. I've panicked at the thought of leaving London earlier than expected, and how that changes the colour of everything here. How it makes me feel like a tourist.

In the past two days, I've thought about spending my October in Paris, in Malta, in Portugal. I've gotten sad at the prospect of saying goodbye to Simon sooner rather than later. I've been wondering about where I'll be for Thanksgiving. I've thought about bouncing from Rhode Island to L.A. I've wondered how much all of this is going to cost.

More than anything, though, I wonder what it is that I want.