As expected, my routines took a hit. I used to lift weights; I used to have a pretty standard set of actions. But adult life makes it harder, made it harder, continues to make it difficult, the action of keeping a pattern. I’m not so much a creature of habit, and I’m certainly not one to keep to schedules, but I did have a routine to some degree. A pattern of timing that worked. And made me feel like I knew what my day might be like, or at least not feel a constant state of disrupted confusion. Continue reading
When I last checked in with everyone here, I was moving out and having my life upheaved. I’d like to say it’s not still in that state of general madness and chaos—but that would be a dirty, dirty lie. Continue reading
Hello everyone. I can’t assume that every single post I’ve written you’ve read, so I must reiterate that I am fairly young. Early to mid-twenties over here. So, really, I’m late to the party—but, here’s the update: I’m moving in with my girlfriend. Continue reading
Wednesday recalls moving in and remembers the moment she wanted to move out. She sees them both as the last of the boxes leave the room. All over the world Wednesday’s gone, seen, and done so much. But, still, each house, no matter how small a time spent there, was a memory, and nothing closes a memory like the last item out of the room.
“I’ll miss it here,” she says and knows she is lying and telling the truth all at the same time. Continue reading