My best friend called, which was nice, if a tad awkward. We're moving through the 'figuring out postcollegiate friendship' stage, pressing out wrinkles here and there. It's strange to think how poorly acquainted we suddenly are. There's so much she doesn't know -- how hard it was to get all the rejections, to go through interviews, my visit to the ballet, 4th of july fireworks, spanish lessons, citizenship, etc. How can we be friends if such things - some of them so major - have to be news? Are we now those people who see one another once a year and engage in superficial banter? I feel like I've lost a certain kind of friendship that I took for granted, a bond I expected to endure. But maybe such relationships were only possible during the 4 years of heated experience that characterized college. Without the dorm circumference, we are just humans - not students, not roommates, not confidantes -- not anything but individuals trying to relate. 

After attending Caroline's barbecue at the beach (yay to swinging on the sand and making smores! yay to heavy ocean air!), I drove home at dark. If you know me at all, you'll be aware that this is one of my favourite things to do. Driving at dark, listening to my music, feeling a strange predatorial sleekness as the car & I plunged into the darkness, watching the trees burn blacker against the sky. I love that feeling of oneness with my car, of being in control, forward-moving, and powerful. I feel like I'm cutting into the night with sharp and knowing teeth, unafraid (mostly) for a little lapse in time. 

On nights like this I blow kisses at the stars and give thanks for balsam in the air. How stupid that sounds. I expect if you saw me, you'd think I was crazy. I am, I know it. But I'm happy to realize that there are moments when I'm content to be by myself, when I can stop the chatter, and gladly embrace the solace of trees, music, and velvety darkness outside. It's a moment of pure correspondence with myself and my surroundings.