It's September and I need a roommate. I couldn't live in the dorms anymore. I was fed up of being paired with idiots. I was done sharing my kitchen and my bathroom with an entire floor. When I signed the lease for my apartment, I did it with the guy...
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It's March and the New York Times asks if Keith and I want to write articles for them.
Keith tells me to do it on my own. He says being two to write an article sucks and that I'm the voice of the documentaries, so it would make sense for it to be my voice in the newspaper too.
I could kiss Keith.
I think he knows how much I've wanted something like this too.
Keith always says he's got everything he needs. He's happily married. He's got a beautiful healthy daughter. He got to make the documentaries he wants to make and he's god a decent paying job. Keith's found his voice in everything he does, in his writing, in our documentaries. I don't think I have yet, not exactly.
I envy Keith often.
He always tells me that's he's older than me though. Apparently he was also kind of miserable at twenty five. Life brightened up for him when he turned thirty.
I don't want to have to wait another five years for my life to feel less shitty.
When I answer the Times they seem really happy about it.
I can't believe this is real. When I call Mom to tell her, she actually cries on the phone. I tell her she's really turning as bad as Dad.
I have to go to New York a few times so I'm always away and I'm always busy again. I like it. I like this pace. I like feeling like I'm accomplishing something all the time.
I barely see Ben. It's almost a good thing.
I barely see Holt. It's probably a good thing too.
