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I am downstairs in my little basement bedroom, reading a book for my Poli Sci class. The book is amazing and makes me remember that I want to write books someday. Someday. ...I haven't done much else this afternoon, except take a long nap in my soft bed. My comforter has gotten softer since freshman year, when I bought it. Its cloth has registered the passage of time more than I have. In September nine months sounded luxuriously long. But they were filled up with lots of ephemeral things: eating, sleeping, studying. Only fragments are memories. I guess time is relative. An hour can seem like forever and weeks can slip away unnoticed.
I've got a month left here, and I can't actually imagine what it will be like to leave this apartment and these friends. I know graduation is coming, but I'm not seeing doom on the horizon, unlike other transitions I've made. The needle on my fear gauge isn't rising towards "TERRIFIED". Sometimes it swings up there, hovers for a panicked moment and dips back down. When I think of finding a job, an apartment, a direction... yeah, that's scary. But then I think of staying here. And would that be any better? Would I want any more time as an undergrad? I don't think so. I think I'm done for now. I think I'm ready for post-college angst to kick in so I can conquer it boldly and become A Full-Fledged Responsible Adult. Besides, it's trendy to be twenty-something and clueless. I'll be so in.
Plus I've got some big dreams. This isn't goodbye forever. Maybe someday we can all move to the same neighborhood, have lots of adorable children and raise them all at the same time. They can all play together, and I can be some little blonde child's Aunt Lindsay. It could happen. Anything could happen. That's the problem. And the promise.
5/18/2002 09:15:17 PM