Saturday, January 19, 2013


So far my twenties feel like I am still a small child running around with adult privileges. At my core there is this girl who, when given the opportunity to stay out all night, does, who continues to truly despise vegetables and beef tartare and foie gras, who gets excited about the endless opportunities that lie within the assorted shelves at a grocery store and who believes in the unfailing good-naturedness of humankind.

The other night when the dishwasher was running and it was cold he asked me if I had just gotten too caught up in it all. Of course I got caught up, I said, I always get caught up, it's what I do. My twenties also come with a sense of predictability that follows me around when I'm walking by an older couple or a construction site. I know what I'm going to do before I even do it, and it goes beyond knowing what side of the road I will walk on or knowing that I will be late to the meeting. It means that I know myself, this child self running around a city with barking dogs and bright lights and that I will inevitably, intrinsically and invariably get caught up in it all.

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