I am no longer sure who I am writing for. My life has in many ways become less interesting since Teaching Drum, and even less interesting since massage school. Now I live a life not so similar from many other people in this country. My fiancee and I have just rented an apartment, and our car is currently in the shop; we’re in the process of accumulating furniture to fill up the apartment, and have to deal with bills and payments and a refrigerator that doesn’t shut off and freezes everything. Right after moving in, we cleaned the carpet and treated it with something that’s supposed to keep it from outgassing — new carpet, we learned after signing the lease, has lots of toxic chemicals in it from its manufacture.

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Now I am engaging in a far more “conventional” path: Establishing a home and a job, getting insurance, and that whole bag of snakes.

The yearlong was my first year out of college, but that wasn’t really anything conventional. Our “housing” was a wigwam in the woods. As for last year, it was essentially another year in school. But this is basically my first year in which I will need to find a steady job to get by, and that’s a big deal for someone like me, who’s been insulated from some of these realities for much of my life.

It’s a pretty different set of realities, in some ways easier, in subtler ways more difficult to navigate.