Catherinian: September 2016
Tonight I had a moment.

The rest of the week stretched out before me filled with anxiety about work related things-- the fact of work and the facts of work-- and postcards and emails that I owe a few people on more cheerful matters. I remembered that I am taking a class on campus this term and that I had reading to do. I wondered where my copy of The Prince was.

I once said sardonically in a paragraph about myself that the hallmark of adulthood is having at least one failed career (and there is something to this). But tonight I learned that another more contented moment of adulthood is when you embark on a new course of study and realize that you not only have a copy of the book to read for tomorrow, but that your younger self has made notations in it that reach out of 2008 to you. You, in an entirely different world, laying on the couch with your partner in a different state with a dog, a porch garden, and a dining room table like a real nearly thirty-year-old person.

And you find that the brackets and the "notes"-- not quite your system developed later in graduate school for making sense of texts-- are still quite good ones, and you feel a little grateful. You can see the dint of your thought process though, and your interests are now more nuanced here and there. You understand more. You make more notes.
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