Welp it's 2a.m. and I've stayed up writing this so I guess I'll post it even though it's ridiculously overdramatic why do you guys put up with me the music's in the links

I have not been doing too much. July was a weird blur with some lovely colorful bits of wonder mixed in. Like a Passion Pit song. I avoided some responsibilities. I made a habit of sleeping too late. I worried over the question of what I’m going to do with my life (no really oh my God what am I going to do with my life). But I also wandered about a twinkling fair ground and ate delicious food with some of you lovely people. I traipsed about the city with some more of you – someone tell the story of the parking victory! Maybe I will next! – and we danced together in the street with strangers. Here, have some Foxy.  

And suddenly it is August? And suddenly it is 67 years since Nagasaki was nuked? So I am Even More of An Adult now?

Or something? Birthdays, man. I never know what to do with them when they are mine. But I came home, poked at another email, checked the blog and realized that I haven’t written in a while and I don’t know what else to write about so here, hear about my day?

It was a quiet birthday, but a good one. I got some Official Stuff done (writing thank you letters for scholarships, emailing about visas, stuff like that), plus a bit of cleaning, and ironing which I actually find quite calming. Ironing, I mean. Cleaning only sometimes. And I listened to a couple chapters of The House of Mirth which is so fucking Edwardian and shit. Like damn it's so Edwardian you feel like you're drowning in Gibson Girls and dapper gentlemen. 

Thursday birthdays are weird, especially when there are Things That Must Get Done to do, but even though it was a normal-ish day, it felt special anyhow. Like, in addition to the usual electronic b-day wishes (I love you all by the way), I got a card from my next-door neighbor who is an old, tiny, Austrian lady. It contained exactly 21 dollars and was signed “love Ann and Oliver.” Oliver is her surprisingly talkative, very friendly orange tabby cat. She was not a cat-person a year ago when she got him and now he co-signs her b-day wishes and is her constant companion. We go over to visit her and she brings us up to date about his kitty life, as if he is her third, furry child. Ugh. How is life that gorgeous?

And the sky was so lovely today. Like the ocean had dissolved into a mass that hugged this little bit of world for the day; it was faintly rainy and gently cloudy, cool and clean but not exactly crisp. It smelled beautiful and felt like a waking dream.

It was one of those strange days where life seems balanced and you smile because you’re happy for reasons that exist, but whose exact specificities elude you. Where you feel effortlessly at home in your own skin without realizing it until you suddenly don’t feel that way anymore. Where there are things you should be freaking the fuck out about, but instead life seems do-able.

So I made dinner and polluted half of the block with garlic fumes – and all for nothing because the green beans burnt but oh well the crab cakes were delicious – and then my mom got home from work and we ate the edible food before I was whisked away.

I poured funfetti mix into tiny ice cream cone, slapped some more paint on my little wooden box, and molested Amy’s couch. So there were crafts! And baked goods! There were twins! And adorable movies! Which was excellent! And a tequila shot! Which was not quite as excellent actually my throat hates me now BUT WHATEVER MAN IT WAS FUN. I GOT TO PUT THE SALT IN… what was it again, nature’s snuff box? Hehehehe!

And then, sometime around the Taking Leave of the Werner Residence and the Drive Home the weather and the date on the calendar and the conversation about Second Thanksgiving and New Years and my own overdramatic nature – everything sorta hit me.

I got to wear a sweater today, guys. Sure, yeah, it was paired with jean shorts BUT THAT IS NOT THE POINT IT WAS STILL A SWEATER. And I layered that sweater. And my little sister got her class schedule and is starting sophomore year next week. And I keep day-dreaming about hot chocolate. And my tumblr dashboard keeps giving me pictures tagged #autumn, featuring fiery, sunlit trees in all their September glory. And slow songs with acoustic guitars keep caressing my earlobes.

And I keep pressing the replay button.

The way I feel is like when you bite into a blackberry; it’s fucking delicious, but hell if there isn’t a bittersweet aftertaste. So you reach into the plastic carton for another one, but the minute you’ve devoured the thing the deep purple shade of want and regret has stained your tongue.

The way I feel is a half-embarrassed echo of June, a half-whispered wish for December, even though I can’t wait for September to come and close. The way I feel is that day-dream with the hot chocolate, except expanded. Like, not only have we all got a cup, but the picture’s hazy edges are widened to encompass an old Victorian fitted with a wraparound porch. There’s a swing and a white wicker rocking chair. There’s a bowl of plums in the kitchen. I don’t know who owns the old Victorian.  

I know there’s a word for it – or maybe a made-up word for it – the way I feel, but leaving it unnamed does the feeling more justice than if I cracked open a dictionary with the intent of pinning down every syllable. And I feel like I should be able to deal with all of this shit that my weird, overdramatic nature is harping on about, but despite the date on the calendar and the inner calm I felt all day, I do not feel like Even More of An Adult now.

But I guess that is normal or something? Or I will adjust?

In the meantime, please, somebody take me dancing.

ALSO! Rachel, your adventures sound magnificent and I look forward to the stories you will tell me. Because you will tell me. What day are you coming back and when are you leaving again because Things Need to Happen while you are here.

AND! Those who are going back to school etc should post dates of when they are leaving AND returning for fall breaks, weekends, Turkey Feastings, ETC.

I am leaving September 19th and will tearfully Skype you all at Second Thanksgiving. So the etc. up there includes addresses because I want to send you people letters. So enable me? Maybe? 

This has been a ridiculously long-winded, all-over-the-place post. I have to get up tomorrow. We'll see how that goes.