I’m off to Providence, tomorrow. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.

I doubt you know what that means. If you do, tell me. You ever sit there and really think about the divide between you doing things and being things? I ain’t no different, I’m in a different place, doing a different thing. Let’s grow. Whatever.

I have four things, currently, in my apartment–besides a bed, delivered during my last trip, which has not yet been slept on. Three of them are cups, and one of them is a frosted mug. Which is, not coincidentally, the only thing in my freezer (or fridge). I’m basing this both on previous inclinations (my own) and the recognition that the coolest professors I know were those most likely to have a few at our gatherings. At a certain age, it even becomes urbane, although probably not the way I’ve been doing it.

It’ll be a while, I think, before I have many friends up there. Because I’m in the field of religion–even though it is not, in my case, because I’m distinctly observant–it’ll be a while longer, even, before I have drinking buddies. This will therefore be a lonely task, for a while, but I have a responsibility. To life.
Okay, for serious.

Am I excited? I am excited. Personally, the last month has been tumultuous. What remains unshaken is my wish to pit my mental energies towards considerable challenges and succeed, to explore mentally vistas unexcavated. I want to spend three years absorbing everything, then come out of it like one of those babies who suddenly start speaking in complete sentences—when they’re ready.

Spiritually, I’d like to be a better person. This is something everyone has room for. There are, I think, some good things that I do out of a feeling of duty but I wish to shape myself so that this can be a joy. Life should be joy. Except for paperwork.

We’ll see.