And she told me she had a gun.
Walked into an interview today, expecting to talk about a job and realized halfway through the afternoon that we were talking about an internship. A paid internship, but an internship. I know without a doubt that this is the pride talking here, but I'm practically kicking 30's door down and I didn't go to the schools I went to and for as long as I did to do a one-year internship with no prospects afterwards. And this less than a day after I'm told by my editor and the president of the imprint to do a complete ground-up rewrite of the book and to have a draft ready by the first week of August. All while realizing that, at this time where I've, for both personal and practical reasons, tried to cultivate some solitude, one of Ramadan's components is socializing, hence the communal iftars and whatnot, which is one reason, perhaps, why I feel particularly guilty shutting down particular demands for my time. So many things I've wanted for so long are arriving at once in my life, and I'm unprepared to hold them all. Instinct is to let all the porcelain crash to the floor. But a man last night gave me half a date when he saw that I had been passed over during the fast-breaking and before the prayer and maybe when I go to the IC tonight, maybe something similar will happen, something slow and soft and kind, and the world will have slowed down a little bit and I can, once again, have that peace I don't have to make for myself.