It has been exactly three months since I started working at my new job. Three months since I moved to Stamford. Three months since I've had my own kitchen and my own car. Two months since I've had my own bed. I have gone on road trips, plane trips, seen music, made music, read books and written less than I've wanted to. It feels as though years have gone by in such a short span of time. How have so many things happened, not happened, come together, fallen apart, grown anew, and been sustained? Such are the rapid tides of life--like the Bay of Fundy, which I am wont to think of at times like these (such huge fluctations, yet barely noticable unless viewed patiently over time).
My office is chilly today, as usual, but the sting of cold keeps me alert. There are two computers on my desk (one laptop in addition to my main one). Two mugs of tea in between (one green, one black). Four sticky notes pressed to the bottom of my screen (phone numbers, keyboard shortcuts, website addresses).
One more day between now and the weekend.