we drew our own constellations

I'm baking. While watching Dawson's Creek, conveniently loaned to me by my brother, who is very comfortable with his masculinity.

A weekend in the city was so good, but it's a weird time for everyone. DB is getting married in three weeks and is starting to fray around the edges. I don't know if it's the actual marriage or the event itself worrying her, hopefully the latter. RJ is getting ready to move in with his boyfriend and start the career job, but hasn't fully told his parents about the cohabitation plans. The E, I think, is starting to wonder if she should make a plan or risk waking up thirty where we are right now.

Navigating by heuristic, more or less floating, waiting.

Stephen Hawking has this elastic band universe theory that is amazing, I guess, in terms of physics but not amazing in the sense that everything is, people are, bound by a law of self correction. And maybe the part of the trick is knowing if it's stretch or snap? Unidirectional linear motion is ignorance of patterns.

Tomorrow is week eight of career. Four months until more benefits kick in. Nine months until I, hopefully probably, load a car with some belongings and move back for spring to the city I went to school in. For a sojourn. I don't consider it moving in because if I come back permanently I'll still get a place, have some kind of place, a bed somewhere, I think. I'm actually not very concerned about it anymore.

We were down in the core for breakfast and some woman said "you're not undercover, are you? If you are, it doesn't matter, I've been clean ninety days!"