i'm only happy when it rains; pour some misery down on me

there is nothing like falling snow to make apparent the passage of time. my last autumn in chicago is over, and winter has arrived to impart a sense of urgency. there is an immense fear of late, that someone i'm missing something, and whatever time i have to do whatever it is i'm supposed to do is ticking away. i wish this nervousness will just crystallize into something i can attack. this amorphous anxiety is difficult to tackle. 

i'm not really sure who i am or what i'm supposed to be anymore. it's a strange blend of confidence and utter confusion, as if i feel ready to do i don't know what. but the snow is nice. it puts things in a strange perspective.