Back at school, and back in work, and back in a rhythm. Back to goodnight at eleven on weeknights and four on weekends; back to hava java (and new as a soon-to-be-barista, starting friday); back to finding my friendships with professors wholly more interesting than most of my friendships with my peers (with some remarkable exceptions). Back to single; back to searching. Back to life without regular outings, dorm showers and bad shaves, cooking and cleaning, coins for laundry. Lots of backs.

It is time for me to move again. I am feeling the itch and am searching for outs. I really would like to go abroad right away but I feel like my daughterly duty is to stay here and take care of people. I might bolt anyway.

I am most happy when I am sitting here with the cast of characters in this coffee shop. I don't know enough about any of them to make them real, and give them humanity outside of the adjective-shell I've wrapped them in in my head, and that distance feels best to me. I can perform. I can be bold. I can make damn good coffee. Maybe.

In four months this will all be gone and I will be somewhere new and with a whole new set of people to learn and remember and perform in front of and make damn good coffee for. It's a refreshing feeling.