i am bone tired. or muscle tired, rather. everything feels taut and pulled at the same time, as if people are playing tug of war with me. i'm home. yesterday evening i went out with my parents and learned the difference between a highball and a cocktail. today i went out with my mother and bought my first pair of real heels. the kind you totter in. at least they don't have pointy toes (because, you know, i don't). i bought an air-conditioner, in the process alarming ben, who suggested, with solomonine wisdom or at least foresight, that we shouldn't have any shared stuff. fine: it'll be my air-conditioner then, and it'll go in my window, in my half of our bedroom.
i am equipped for new york. i will be more equipped once the clothes that my mother and i bought today for obscene retail prices are trimmed to fit me and i have a martini shaker. preferably one shaped like a penguin.
cty is over. cty is over, and for a moment there upon my return i reverted to childhood. curled up in my bed with a crying jag, pouting into my pillow that i couldn't be 13 again, or at least preparing to return to swarthmore again, instead of preparing to make my professional bed and lie in it in the big city.
missing cty makes me miss college and it's all one big old mess. it's hard to look backwards and forwards at the same time.