OK, so being a regular blogger is hard when you leave town. It’s especially hard when you go home for the weekend and don’t bring your laptop. It’s also especially hard when your days are so packed that you almost forget to think, “I could totally blog about this.” But then you find yourself having cocktail conversation with old people at a wedding and wish you could take a moment to whip out your iPhone and jot down a few notes. There’s so much material in cocktail conversation. Answering the same questions seventy-five times allows plenty of time for your brain to wander. But then you remember that you didn’t even bring your phone. Then you tear up the dance floor and live in the moment.
It’s moving day. I won’t have internet at my apartment. It’s part of my push to make myself responsible and sensible about the reality that I don’t have a “real job.” I think it will really help me work harder to find employment.
So, excuse me for my absence. It was an emotional weekend. I cried when I walked into my little brother’s room and realized he was in college. For the twenty-fifth time in about five years, I thought, “My childhood is over.” Then my mom laughed at me, asked me if I had stolen her hormone pills, and basically told me that my childhood would never end.
We’ll see if she’s right.