01.24.2002 - 3:57 p.m.

It's hot. Shoulda checked the weather at some point before getting dressed today. Oh well.

Today I printed and copied all the schedule sheets for the whole semester and then, because I wanted to procrastinate, wrote in the date at the top of every single one. Gives a person a pretty vivid sense of time, I think, to sit for fifteen minutes and watch while your hands go

... and so on and so forth, all the way to May 3, at the end of the last week before finals. In May I'll be a different person. I'll have been single for a year and a half. Or not, and that will really be different. There will only be a year left before my roommate gets married, and I have to think of some other living arrangements. I'll know by then if I'm going to grad school next or not. If the grant I work for is renewed.

This is the kind of thing my ex used to wonder about all the time. He would write letters to himself and pack them away with the Christmas decorations. "Dear Future D___, how are you? How was your year? I wish I could be there with you. You know so much more than me. Say hi to stonebridge."

I know about that last one because he did say hi to me this year, even though.

It used to annoy me. I mean, how corny is it to write to your future self? (I say as I write an online diary entry that my future self probably will look back at...)

I realized the other day that although I don't think of myself as such, I'm an adult. I've got bills and a car and health insurance in my own name, and I'll probably be a nine-to-fiver for the rest of my life, unless I marry and raise a family, or move to southeast asia and go native, or whatever. It was an interesting thing to notice, all of a sudden, and a little depressing to think about at eleven at night when I knew I had to drag myself out of my friends' house and back home to bed so today wouldn't suck. Eleven at night. My days started at around that time, not so long ago.

But today, in the daytime, it's kind of a fun thought: I am an adult. I have chosen to be where I am. If I'm still here when I'm sixty-three, it will be because I enjoyed all forty of those years. Holy shit.

See? The sun also rises.

-stonebridge

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