Sometimes.

Sometimes sympathetic coworkers and listening ears over beers after work are the best thing in the world.  Especially when said coworkers are the only contemporaries on a floor of “could be my parents”-style people.

Sometimes a last-minute email from an old friend saying “hey, meet me for dinner tonight” can be a lifesaver. 

Sometimes numbers lose meaning.  Bills involving pitchers of sangria, or tanks of gas? Those are numbers? Coming out of my bank account? Whatever, send me the receipt.

Sometimes empty trains and ipods full of emo music = bliss.

Sometimes having a boyfriend away for two entire weekends can seem impossible, but sometimes it (contradictorily) seems amazing; a chance to regain a bit of independence, and to remember how it used to be.  Weekends of empty agendas and poolside afternoons and museums with the self as the center and the stopwatch. 

Sometimes it feels amazing to outwit Bill Gates’ Word with words like “contradictorily.” (Should one draft posts in Word.  Which, um, I do.  That red underline? SO unnecessary.)

Sometimes it’s hard to have grown up in a neighboring suburb to Bill Gates’.  And to have his daughter attend your alma mater, now that she’s, you know, old enough to go to school.

Sometimes it’s hard to come from privilege, and to prove that you’re still making it on your own, and existing entirely independently of the world in which you’ve found yourself in by fortune of family circumstance.

Sometimes the happiest thing is to fall into bed, with the laptop, and type off thoughts and feelings to the world. 

Sometimes it’s just like that.  Just a moment of calm, where everything seems somehow aligned, and you know that, while it will certainly be short-lived, it’s something worth holding onto.