My work is this odd brainwashhybrid: menial meets noble, and my
roommate darling and my spirits high, sadly, I feel, the result of coed
interaction, finally, which I could have gotten to begin with. No
matter! I'll think of it as an extended summer job, with an emphasis on
the cashflow and corporate exposure and will say to myself seven times
a day I'm an Intern, it's a Little to be Anticipated this triviality.
What I've been doing is: (albeit much-needed) socializing,
incessantly--sushi hystericallaughterfests, cocktail parties, wine
tastings, watching Al Capone specials on the History Channel and
hottubbing with Heinekens with my new Urban Family of sorts, Krissy and
Jeff, with far-reaching othersstrata but mainly and always back to
those two. OHMYGOSH I can't stand up straight after nine hours in three
and a half inch heels, I took them off and security laughed at me
prancing into the complex in stockinged feet and Rainbows. If I can
survive four more hours of it in the morning I'm having dinner in this
gracious verandahed Mediterranean place for the madre's birthday,
imbibing all the white wine I can handle, then running around Epcot
with some friends before Japanese and a MUCHNEEDED night spent at my
parents' before the day off I'd die without we'll spend sunning in
Cocoa Beach. Goodness. I'm getting a library card tomorrow, and I'll do
everything I need to by Thursday, how's that? Erin's near, Emily too,
even, but not Nick, and gosh I miss feeling that way. I think being in
the same time zone at long last'll aid that, but sheesh, we haven't had
a conversation where he's not distracted or I'm not hysterical or he's
not hungry or I'm not tipsy in a week, and it's been the most
burstingattheseems week I've experienced in a while so it's
particularly awful. I like knowing even things like I had Crispix or My
run was cut short, and tonight we had jobs applied for and plans
dramatically altered. I hate sweeping overviews and I need to be more
disciplined, but Monday I'm mailing him Dinosaur stickers and cigars
for him and the boys, and god hopefully I'll be able to set aside time
I'd kill to be spending with him to talk and write and think. Three hours of sleep a night on
average's no good, and neither is my coked-up-seeming inability to slow
down. AAAAAH, WORKING WORLD.

I haven't gotten to write about it yet the bike trip for we were too
busy afterward pooling packing and so forth, but last weekend Erin and
I did 36 miles, cold, around the county and it was incredible. We set
off so early there was still dew and all, for you know you have to in
Florida in early August/anytime, really. We reached the highway (our
usual trek's ending-point) with into-traffic shouts of -I'm not tired
yet! and hardly-heard -Me neither!s, and at the risk of being all Y Tu
Mama Tambien-y and interrupting perfectly self-sufficient adolescent
antics with a too-long pause and half-pertinent social commentary, in
translation, that's where I feel the trip took a turn. The striking
juxtaposition of Riversedge estates with the Prison-passing shortcut
Erin proposed (they got quite the kick out of us pedaling by in Soffes
down crumbling Detention Center Lane letmetellyou...) made the journey
not only physically grueling, but Tour de Economic Spectrum of Brevard
County-y as well. We stopped for a lovely lunch in Cocoa Village at a
casual cafe with an enchanting courtyard view, then researched puppies
for an hour or so in the Central County Library, right on the water and
well-stocked on grooming, etc., guides. I love Erin so and it felt
amazing to collapse afterward on her formal living room floor--it's so
serene in there--and look at the collectible plates on the wall in
exhaustion. We rewarded ourselves pre-her going away party the next day
with a nice long float in the pool and new cosmetics, then watched
movies at my house avec Gobstoppers which led to Amber and I laughing
uncontrollably for a good half-hour in my bed and actually calling Nick
at past-midnight I fear his time and asking him to impersonate Arnold
S. in Kindergarten Cop. O "VHULD YOU LIKE TO SHTROKE MY FEGHRET?!", O
SUMMER!

Life at times like this isn't trying to say But look what better than
Best Love Ever'll come your way or See now what you're learning! but
rather Appreciate what you haven't, Choose with conviction and is
forcing me to face one big o the humanity and relate outside my pretty
little "You here, You here, Me drinking a mango smoothie with You here,
and You a block away ready to meet Us at the gallery" paperdoll game
that never ever pans out etc. So I read accounts of authors I
admire--Auden living in Berlin slums after Oxford for a year and say
this is only five months and I'm living in a trendy area and have my
mind and the Museum, and of the eccentric peer-worshipped selling fried
chicken or undertaking (the dead), and then my French phrases calendar
reminds me with parenthetic asides of (lit.) or (idiom) that EXPERIENCE
MAKES THE MAN.

To list the Good Things, I'm going this weekend to Gainesville to see
Erin's new apartment, her ship painting mounted and to walk the town
and read and have tea and talk, finally--it's been over a week and I'm
right spasming without her to reason things through with. I'm having
lunch with a high school friend I haven't seen since graduation Monday,
and the member of one of three romances forbidden for religious reasons
but clandestine continuing that I hear updates on at least monthly,
even though we decided it's silly to add At least we're ALLOWED to be
together! to the Why Things Could be Worse list. I want to emerge from
the year two thousand five not jealous of anyone, ever, and with sheer
charisma and the ability to be gracious to every being on the planet.
If not, at least Nick and I and maybe the others will be going skiing
for a week then, perhaps even in France.

Doctor Zhivago's savory on maybe an even disproportionately-so
level--I'm rationing it hourly and reading Tell Me the Truth About Love
over and over in between. Does anyone else feel weepy and fatigued
every time they fly from Pacific time back to Eastern, so that I can
please blame this Zhivagofervor on jetlag? (Marin County's as amazing
as ever, I was never so happy to see Emily, and Nick and I are closer
yet as friends, with newfound classic rock fiendery on my part and the
freshest food and mad soulshaking love for all.)

SOMEHOW this summer between Sargent signings-in and fiery sentiment
well(sometimes)-directed (Carson McCullers said: "The ideas were so
chaotic, so inconceivable, he could not formulate his protests." I
looked at that big-eyed then my wall, then wanted to dog-ear it
violently or smear its print with flamingo-hued highlighter fluid in Clock Without Hands tonight), after ego-inflating
overestimates of my programming abilities ---> tears, at night, at 4
and entreaties and resignation (quitting/surrendering/sobbing/and so
forth) I reached Where I am Now which I for the first time in ayear,
exactly, wouldn't change. !!!!!. Right now I have a lucrative if
menialish internship beginning in August, a grand volunteer position
with Orlando's NPR station reading the NYTimes to the
visually-impaired, Planned Parenthood eventswork, art museum envelope
stuffing, and a network of friends I've learned to accept still love me
though we cannot always sleep within five feet of one another/keep up
with letter writing. The thing I want most is to emerge from this
unexpected ebbIguess Gracious.

Nick for twelve days came in July! We did Florida Things: braved the
crowds at Magic Kingdom for a fine wonderful dazzling cuisine reward of
latest-seating dinner on the top floor of the Contemporary during the
fireworks show with explosions so close we couldn't see their golden
tip-tops from our prime windowside table THANK YOU, INTENDED OCCUPANTS
FOR CANCELLING @ LAST MINUTE. He's just dreamy--we made eyes at each
other still after six months strong across some damn-good gouda, Splash
Mountain-ed shorts (entirely unappropriate attire) and all. Then I got
a Flash Migraine, passed out-ish in my polenta, and had to be rushed
home, without Cherries Jubilee and with the help of one composed,
-passionate companion who had to navigate the unfamiliar: monorail
system back to my car parked miles from another theme park, network of
gas stations from which to purchase Excedrin, interstates leading back
beachward--how romaaaantic!
I also enjoyed
especially the evening he, Erin and I ended up on the floor of my
former library painting New York City, windmills, and abstract
peacock-centered arabesque, respectively, and drinking merlot from the
bottle. Nick ate pancakes every morning, inhaled whole cartons of
cookies by night, and drank an entire half-gallon of milk each
morning--it was joyous. I have never fried so many ounces of bacon
daily in my life, nor frequented the Taco Bell drive-thru like I did
that week and a half. My entire extended family adored him which felt
wonderful and I will miss him so much this fall but will thankfully be
as busy as can be.

My mother's had these suitable sayings and excerpts waiting for me on
the breakfast table when I wake up--not Everything Happens for a
Reason!s, but smart, silky snippets from Alcott and (hahahaha) Lady Chatterly's Lover,
of all things, about sadness and triumph, because I have hated this
year. They are comforting, alone and in the knowledge: that she had
them ready--marked and lining her own tall, narrow bookshelf to
transcribe, and that I'm doing the right thing.