It's 12:06 in the morning and I have to write something. I have no real idea what, but something.

I found a box of "memories" that I packed away a while ago. A journal I called "Fuck Me" and my varsity letter with all my pins. I found a "book" I had written about writing when I was in high school. I found short stories I forgot I had written. I found my dream journal and read through them and love that I kept one--and there are plenty of pages left, so I plan on continuing it. Just keep it on my coffee table to write it when I wake up since I don't have to worry that someone else will read it.

I'm realizing, every day, all the things that are different about living by yourself. My tampons can be out. My bra can stay in the bathroom. My journal can stay on the couch and I don't have to move it. When I write these entries, my browser can save the password for the next time I log on. I can drink water and leave the glass out. I can put something somewhere and not tell another person where they can find it. I can listen to music and not have to turn it down.

If you read me much, you may have noticed that I tend to stress about my time. Weekends were especially hard; I'd feel like I was wasting the entire weekend if I didn't do anything. Jon would wake up about 8, sometimes even earlier. He'd wake me up and we'd go to Bruegger's for bagels. He'd say, "What do you want to do?" and look at the time and say, "1:00 already!?" He's ask if I want to play tennis when really, I just want to finish waking up "properly," though in all honesty, I'm not sure what that meant. We'd mostly watch a movie or two and then just lounge around looking out the window, constantly trying to come up with a PLAN.

This weekend, I had no plan. I slept in yesterday and then watched a movie I borrowed from friends (Dogma), then I took a nap. Then I woke up at 5 and called a friend and eventually, we met up with each other around 8, after I got some things from Jon's apartment. I got tired at about 9:30 after grocery shopping and came home. I watched Quills and then I read a newspaper and then I sat and daydreamed and went to bed. I woke up this morning around 9:30 and I started going through my boxes. I lounged. I did some work that I brought home. I made a new background for my puter. I laid on the couch. Ate a banana. Went to meet my friend to look at an apartment for her. Went to Target. Went to a movie with Jon. Had dinner with Jon. Came home. Cleaned. Looked at memories...

And I feel as if I didn't waste a single minute. The highlight of my day? At about 10:20, I looked at my carpet and decided I want to lay on it. So I lay back, stretched my arms out and just looked at the ceiling, and I thought, "Now THIS feels good. Why didn't I do this before?" Because before...I had company.

I didn't watch TV at all today.

When my friend and I came back from Target, Jon was waiting for me on my stoop. He was leaning back on the concrete in his jacket, wearing his jeans...he looked so incredibly handsome. He was sweet the whole night; nothing too different...just nice.

I kinda miss him. I wish I could hug someone...

As a reminder, I did create a new journal that is absolutely private so no person I know in real life can read it and I apologize immensely, but that's the way it's gotta be. Anybody else, just email me for the address, username and password, and I'll be happy to give it to you...

Peace to you, --el.