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Sunday September 09, 2001, 13:57

I briefly consider a peanut butter and mustard sandwich as I open my refrigerator and find nothing there but, well, mustard. And jelly. There's the jelly. Hiding behind the mustard. As if it knows what's going to happen and is trying, desperately, to avoid eye contact. It's futile, however, for a peanut butter and mustard sandwich is about as vile a lunch combination as I can muster in my mind.

I feel as though I am at the beach. The sounds of the city not withstanding, the cool breeze and the dry heat remind me of a beach visit towards the end of the summer, which I suppose this would be, were I at the beach. Which I am not. The clouds are large and fluffy and there are, this afternoon, three women lying on the roof across the way, sun bathing. Two black bikinis, one green. One purple towel, one pink, one white. Two reading, one just lying back, eyes closed, mind, I would like to think, clear of all cares in the world, focusing merely on the breeze and the sun and the sky.

More likely than not, thoughts of daily life plague our three sunners, thinking of the week ahead, thankful for this moment of reprise in an otherwise hectic schedule of the young urbanite.

But I can make up my own stories.

...

So the topic that dominated last night's conversation was, at least in my mind, that of maturity, and things relating to maturity. And growing up. Which are slightly different.

I smell the ocean.

It's getting to that part of my life (and, to be more outward thinking about it, the lives of my peers) when thoughts turn not towards the next paycheck or the next job, but the next career, the ever elusive Life Plan. Or that's how I project it at least. The fact remains that there will come a point when I do want to be able to support myself, to be able to figure out my own taxes and be making enough money so that the taxes will actually be reflecting something that I've earned. When I will be able to go on a vacation, or have a dessert at a restaurant without considering "can I afford this?" The life that I am living now and, to that end, the income that I ear right now, just don't afford me those luxuries.

That is what I'm supposed to be worried about, right? That there is supposed to be a path and that as long as I travel down that path at a reasonable speed with a reasonable enthusiasm that things will all Work Out in the end, right?

End? There's going to be an end? I am not old enough to consider these things, and yet I feel like I am approaching something of a turning point when I decide that, indeed, there needs to be this path, there needs to be this ultimate goal. And that I need to stop screwing around.

On the other hand it could be that I take this breakdown period in my life to realize some of those other dreams in my head. The ones where these words are not going into a computer but rather onto a sheet of paper. Among other ones. That was really just the first one that came off my head.

Oh, and I need a new wardrobe. For the fall, you see. I wish that I could chalk it up to a weakness that allowed me to be swayed by the advertising budget of the corporate machine, but regrettably I've not been inundated with so much of the advertising in recent months and instead attribute it to the fact that I am sick of all my t-shirts being stretched out of shape with stains in unsightly places and an added desire to look "cleaner" whatever that happens to mean.

Though when asked today whether I'm still in the right city, I find myself answering a resounding "yes!"

Sounds like I'm on the right track.

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