I guess when it finally happens for real, you don't think to make a big thoughtful blog post about it. It just is. It clicks, but not on the thousand little torturous centipede legs that come creeping on sometimes, especially late at night. It clicks like when you learn something new. You find yourself using that piece of information without even thinking of it. Suddenly, a new tool. I've been learning a lot of new things recently; some of them about myself, and some of them about like... how the electrons in memory-storage semiconductors work.
Or maybe it never happens; you just make a little room in yourself. Scooch.
I'm alone in my parents kitchen, making a kale and feta frittata and drinking coffee. I need the coffee; I have a little bit of a headache from the bonfire last night. I'm looking forward to going home to the Valley this afternoon. My pretty friend texts me a video of herself tossing around the surplus of unders and bras that we champagne-drunk-impulse-bought together last week, which have evidently arrived. It reminds me of that silly scene in Gatsby. "It make me sad because I've never seen such--such beautiful shirts!" I hadn't bought superfluous unders with a girlfriend in years, but I used to when I was 19.
It's getting hot. I love this weather, though I don't really tell people that. I like being heated through. I love the fireflies and the blackberries and the way everything smells.
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