(no subject)
All of my belongings are currently stockpiled in the next room, a dining room of a friend's. Whole food bags sit with last minute items and bed linens piled high inside. Boxes from old workplaces, Barnes and Noble's mostly, liter the countertop and spill onto the floor. It's telling: the disorganization, the pale blue satin prom gown folded into a plastic countainer. I'm a yuppie refugee. Former preppy, lover of things that are pink and soft.
The view outside is strangely calming. I'm looking out onto the building of my first Massachusetts residence. I'm looking from the other side now. In the next room, Brian is listening to music and packing for NYU. I can't imagine -- am a little jealous, a little in awe, and terrified when I think of his daily commute -- having a summer like this.
Mine will be like this: forty hours of muscle building, bone wearing work weekly; a new home; an adjusted life. I'm ready for it.
Across the way, on the couch, she is sleeping beneath a stretch of blue and brown argyle. Though she claims she never sleeps on her back, she is. Her hands are behind her head. The last time I saw this pose was with my cousin, when she was a baby. She's no longer one. I talked to her last night when I called my sister who graduated from high school last night. Everyone is celebrating. I've taken to drinking coffee. She's awake now. Awake before I could do so by crawling slightly guilty, wholly sneaky in alongside her. It's not a couch built for two anyway.
The view outside is strangely calming. I'm looking out onto the building of my first Massachusetts residence. I'm looking from the other side now. In the next room, Brian is listening to music and packing for NYU. I can't imagine -- am a little jealous, a little in awe, and terrified when I think of his daily commute -- having a summer like this.
Mine will be like this: forty hours of muscle building, bone wearing work weekly; a new home; an adjusted life. I'm ready for it.
Across the way, on the couch, she is sleeping beneath a stretch of blue and brown argyle. Though she claims she never sleeps on her back, she is. Her hands are behind her head. The last time I saw this pose was with my cousin, when she was a baby. She's no longer one. I talked to her last night when I called my sister who graduated from high school last night. Everyone is celebrating. I've taken to drinking coffee. She's awake now. Awake before I could do so by crawling slightly guilty, wholly sneaky in alongside her. It's not a couch built for two anyway.