26. Soon we'll be making another run.

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My left eye lid has been twitching for a few weeks now, taking a turn for the worse today.

Today's the packing day for the trip, y'see.

Svetlana's in the living room, playing one of the games I got for her. I am sitting in my office, feeling a bit jittery from coffee and nerves, wanting sleep so badly and knowing I have yet even still more to do before I can lay my head down for a few hours before heading out into the wild sunny yonder of sunburns and impoverished islands and obnoxious love boat entertainment.

The holidays were definitely alright - a mix of the most annoying and least annoying of the season. I wish I had felt a little more warmness or rightness about things - after all, it's been a full year of living on my own, and even though I'm definitely not one of those, I'd been sort of looking for some sort of sign that I'm on the right track, that I am doing OK. The skies have been empty, no flares, no smoke signals, no shooting stars.

I suppose it's just as well. When all is said and done, we're dust in the ground, and a faint story upon people's lips. Celebrities of nothing, and testament to the ephemera of magazine clippings and decay. This body, these crimes, those successes, all wonder and light to the end of the year, some great big sum we've got pluses and minuses stacked up for, like cords of wood.

Oplatek changing hands on Christmas Eve, broken pieces, murmured wishes, then obligatory and lightning-fast hugs and kisses on the cheek. I always wish people health and happiness, for lack of anything more specific which might be taken the wrong way. I get wished, in return, a wry sort of directive to find something that I love to do, the implication being that I haven't got anything, of course. All the creative work I do is apparently not tracked and worked up in all the best self-help workbooks. My life, to others, is non-specific and enigmatic. No one seems comfortable with living life as it happens, with truly picking steps along the way with a bit of care and a lot of learning. Long in the tooth in appearance, short on grounded dancing. I am more and less cautious, I break the wafer and smiled tiredly at the insinuation that I am aimless, that I am less than they are. I am wearing the clothes of two years ago, I am wearing the shoes someone else used to wear. My smile is a bit older than thirty. I have silver at my temples.

The new year sees me broke and brave again in the face of doubt. Recovery takes time, dented by heating bills and by middlin' paychecks.

Outside, the streets are slightly damp, always chilled, no snow. The cars are salted and grimy, but not overly so. The houses are cheery and colorful, gaudy and completely unecessary. Logan Boulevard is rife with show-offs. In the house, candles burn that are apple and berry and orange and comfort.

It's now time for a hot shower and sleep. See you next year.

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