Oh well, I suppose.
This place is full of 20-somethings searching for some semblance of a Tuesday night life. Laptops, mugs, and books. Here I am with Lil' Mac and a delectable slice of Tres Leches, typey-typing, listening in on everyone's conversations, and eyeing the cute, tatt'd guy at the other end of the room.
The Living Room is a wonderful ecosystem. Full to the brim with college students and late night wanderers, but not annoyingly so. Hearing such a concentration of babble makes me think about my own connections with people. Old high school classmates who have initiated conversation after years of distance. How far away I feel from Boston and my family. I want to know that everyone is happy and doing well. :there is some delicious custardy substance in this cake:
I am happy to be here. Perhaps that is what I am getting at. My bones feel settled now that my need of frivolous human contact has tapered off. I am preparing for all sorts of new challenges. They are coming. I feel it in the very depths of my stomach and as electricity over my skin.
:i should have ordered tea with this cake:
If one is hiding behind a book or a laptop, how seriously is one looking for night life?
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