Conversations-With-Myself

“Yeah, I’m looking to buy a place.” Holy shit, did I just say that? I think I did. In fact, I think this is the beginning of the end - the end of pretending like I can get away with doing just the minimum. There’s a couple of factors that have prompted me to start looking, not least of which is $17,000 on offer from the Federal and state governments for a first home buyer, plus stamp duty waiver for a place under $500,000. The likely bottoming-out of the market and sufficient savings means it’d be on the foolish side not to take advantage of this confluence of timing. ...

… to learn how to write stories again.

As much as I have been mentioning what today is all about, it’s even less online than it is in real conversations around the office. There’s been nothing else which has been a consistent topic over the last month at least, save perhaps considerations of the future beyond today. Today also marks my 2 year anniversary at work, which is kinda scary in itself. Sure, actual date might be the 6th, but it’s the same week, the same first Monday of February, and that counts more for me. ...

It’s something emepheral, almost. Our relationship is defined almost entirely within the confines of the darkness and the music, the undercurrent of alcohol and the late night, the unsteady beat driving our actions and defining our interaction. It’s hard to have a moment of intimacy when you’re surrounded by strangers at close range. Any such moments must be stolen, and undeclared, lasting mere seconds while the gaps between the moments stretch out, time’s elastic nature playing its usual trick. The music’s volume precludes anything but the eyes conversing, though at this stage it’s still early enough in the relationship that all the common phrases have not been defined in the language of the eyes. ...

(It’s inevitable, isn’t it? As soon as I say “I’m on hiatus,” I think of something to write) I think what’s got me in a bit of a zone is the fact that suddenly, things are real. I don’t know why it hasn’t felt like that until just recently; maybe I’m finally getting out of that age range where you’re expected to goof off, and hitting 22 suddenly sounds very much like “Ok, you’re supposed to be grown up now. Get on with it.” ...