[Blogger is having massive problems right now so I think I’ll write now post later?]

I’m home for four days. Taking care of things.

[They’re not my things so I’m not going to write about them.]

Which I guess I’m getting okay at. For as long as I can remember, I have been the one who takes care of things. The logical, measured responder; the on-call. Someone I worked for once described me as able to handle any crisis, the world falling down around me, without losing my head. Maybe it was learned involuntarily, maybe it’s an explained genetic personality feature, tied to the compulsion strangers have to tell me secrets. I have had the strangest experiences in the past year, with people who had no interest in taking anything from me, who said they felt something. If you had asked me a year ago, in my agnostic disinterest, I would have dismissed it unequivocally as hippie bullsh*t.

The help I offer to others has been better than the help I am often able to offer myself, which is why I keep a small contingency of very close friends as advisor. To them, everything; to everyone else, nothing.

Even now, there are moments where things are becoming so clear, why now and what this means. How it is changing my perspective at a time when that perspective was so malleable.

Sometimes things happen and you know nothing will ever be the same, and you wonder how you could have known about all the lasts, if you would have wanted to. At the same time, it wasn’t like everything was going to stay the same forever anyways, and the occurrence of this answers ambiguities. I mean, there's something to be said for finding out how a story ends.

*

Listening - Paolo Nutini

*

Last night I went to the drugstore, the same one I used to go on my most alone Friday nights. I don't have alone Friday nights anymore. I read all the magazines and sprayed myself with the new Dior, and tested lotions I didn't buy. It's still cold, but that thawing cold that's almost spring, and I walked home in the dark and thought about how many times I've walked that street, this neighborhood, the city. It was familiar, then oppressive, now simultaneously foreign and comforting. Like something I'd read about in great detail but never seen.

I've accomplished f*ck all in the past three days, which is ok, but it makes the next six weeks kind of busy. On the upside, I have a couple of leads for new apartments in Being a Nomad, Vol. 8, The Story of My Life and have recently started to convert all of my mail to electronic form. I have recently realized that leaving anyone else in charge of my stuff while I was gone just kind of messed it up and that I need to figure out another method of dealing with it. I've also been researching crash guides to personal finance. Not the stupid ones that teach about consolidating credit cards and cutting back on needless expenditures, more so the overviews of various saving and investment mechanisms and something that can give me an idea about where the money I make in the next five years should be going. Because I have realized that regardless of what I want to be doing, it's going to save a lot of headaches if I have my life somewhat organized in certain ways. Agh. Being a grown up.

I think. Right now. I want to call my boyfriend. And see if he can tell me about things. That are not here.