I know it is late, but I am celebrating the completion of five pages; single spaced.

Okay, I'm a liar. Four and a half. But you would lie too if that's all you had to show for four hours of straight Zora Neale and still only barely tapped the surface of her anomalies.

I digress.

I always say that whenever I am pitifully unhappy with myself and yet even more pitifully reticent to change. It is fifteen minutes after one am and I stopped being a night person when I was twenty; what am I doing with my life if not digressing?

I digress further.

Tonight saw me with two groups of friends--my new friends and, yes, my old friends. (Although, in reality, I have known all of them less than seven months and so in my lifetime of friend-making that would make them all new friends, but who's counting. I'm certainly not.) The first group was celebrating the birthday of a guy from my church. It's the little bit older crew, the almost graduated and the post graduated. I feel good with them. I feel like I'm my age and it's okay to be undecided, unlike all the rest of college sophmores and juniors who have life figured out thank you very much. Well, not really, but you know. The second half of my evening was spent with the old friends, a crowd with whom I very much feel comfortable. We know each other, we battle ideas and standards and relationships and sort out callings and giftings and stir one another on and spit out the bones and swallow the good stuff. Tonight we just watched a movie. Capote. Artistic and slow. I fell asleep, but only because I knew the rest of the story; In Cold Blood been required reading in every non-fiction class I've taken.

Now it's been proven that I've digressed and I'll go to bed.