disjointed, disoriented.

switch hitting in the gray area is making me understandably skittish. there's all crawling and leaping under my skin, words bouncing off words and leaving a smattering of dust that won't rinse off in the shower.

it's like, lately, everything fits together - but in incredibly complicated ways. and i know that once i figure out how it all slides into place and interlocks, then i'm going to have it so easy. but for now all i can do is sit around and try to visualize all the pathways from above to find the quickest route, though i've only seen them from the inside (and there is definitely a minotaur around here somewhere).

maybe i shouldn't be looking for the quickest route. maybe i should be glad to plod along, with at least something to occupy my head in still moments.

but it all fits. and the weight of not knowing is dragging against me, dragging me down, there's this untold pressure laid across my hips, forcing my bones into unfamiliar configurations. dust again. it won't rinse off in the shower.

i know somewhere that i am maintaining the bare minimum of necessity. that gray area is between exceeded expectations and unmet hopes. it's all standing back waiting for me to make a move, and i'm confident and posed, i just don't yet have all the information i need.

work is good. refugees are spectacular. friends and family, they're good. theatre season starts in less than two weeks. i have school, i have books and miniseries and homework, and i have a concrete plan for at least the next three years. i'm just a little dazed.

and this:

are we gonna make a habit of this? she asks, as they bump into each other the third time in so many days.

i kind of hope so, he replies, all beard and steady hands.

she laughs delightedly and he looks worried, maybe not catching the meaning. why's that funny?

her smile hasn't faded. it's one of those days. it was just the best possible answer.