This is a different kind of happiness. More soothing, more stable. Gives me an undisputed place in the world. I work. My success in this endeavor depends largely on my skill rather than the whims of personality and circumstances, though circumstances certainly do play a role in employment. I am going to be Editor-in-Chief and I am so proud to think those words. A dawning awareness that I will likely succeed in feeding and clothing myself--and beyond—is trickling down to my conscience. I have the tools to live a satisfying American life, as defined by me. I am aware that I will fail sometimes, but will unlikely fall far enough to necessitate moving to my parents’ house. I think back to the other times I have failed and realize that they were gifts. The RA job in particular comes to mind.
I am sitting in the same house, on the same couch, as I did barely four months ago and my world has shifted again. Being on my own gives me clarity, and a degree of narcissism while I’m by myself, but what else is there to think about when I am alone? I put too much of myself into relationships too early, and I’ve gained a lot of wisdom from last year, but I also know how easy it is to toss every morsel of knowledge and understanding when she is in the room. I am wondering about my future. The next month is planned out but uncertain—it is a challenge to be as independent as I wish to be. I have never navigated a Christmas break here before; I have never navigated so much temporary housing. It’s interesting.
I think that is what I will remember about this semester, and probably this year, and possibly the next two years: the transitions. Sleeping in different beds and playing with different kids and sitting in different fabulously expensive houses and driving home at midnight; one; two; three; four in the morning. Clutching hundred dollar checks for spending five hours in a renovated meat packing plant with a Chihuahua puppy and kids disinterested in authority. I am phone calls to parents and endless hours of On Demand television and doing laundry in Brooks’ house. My home is cramped and temporary but I miss it. I have decided it is probably prudent to cease buying possessions and to live in the dorms—wherever I go from here, it will require a move. And moves are fucking expensive.
I am glad for work and going home in less than a week. I like being alone, and I love being away from campus (if I could just carve out my suite and take it away, it would be lovely), but I turn into an unhappy camper without friends. As one should.