(no subject)

Did payroll taxes. Noticed an overpayment from last quarter because of a stupid clerical error on my part. This isn't good -- my company now owes less this quarter...but I have to fill out twice as much paperwork explaining to the IRS why I overpaid them, and exactly how much the overpayment affected each of the three withholding taxes.

The sad, frightening thing is, I did the paperwork and understood it all.

(no subject)

It is a night of cool clarity; a night of a gibbous moon so bright it hurts to look at it directly, and a shining Southern metropolis, lit and brilliant, no haze of humidity to dim the sparkle.

I ate mussels tonight at a restaurant nearby, nicely sautéed and very crisp. I chatted with a cute bartender named Sunshine as she mixed drinks in a blur of efficiency with no wasted movement.

I feel lately I am not myself, though here I am. Years of stasis have given way to change once again. I have thought so much of myself in the past, and yet in the last four months, I have had nothing but future stretch before me. How much I have changed in the last year. I have fallen. I have taken a chess-like life of consideration and dashed it away. My life was never planned per se, I am not that rigid. But I reasoned and measured against the thousands of possibilities and probabilities, staying several steps ahead of what might be. No longer. I took everything I was, and everything I thought I would be, wrapped it tightly...and let it go, falling into fate and destiny, trusting the currents of life to clear the rapids and guide me to my future. Sometimes it feels like selling out, but I haven't sold out. I have evolved, and perhaps gained trust in that which cannot always be controlled.

I have no regrets, but I can't necessarily follow how I got here. The undergroundish black-dyed longhair is gone, the cyberyuppie I have become is someone I would not have recognized even a year ago. I have been looking for apartments; the downtown lofts I have been exploring...just aren't me anymore.

Two more years, maybe three, of immersing myself within the caste of hi-tech and the shimmer-glamour of biz, and I may be able to escape. The day-to-day necessity of thought, of the new, of leading edge...may finally relax into something a little more real and organic. Or, if I can't live without the amorphous addiction of spontaneous originality, at least it may be on my own terms.