There's one thing I really know how to do: love.

I live with artists. They make things. I make things too. But they know what they want. They have big, solid dreams. I have many, many small ones.

It's funny. I write these brief lists without ever looking at the big picture, or trying to figure out what it all means. (It all means something.) For instance, I say I'll be content in ten years if I'm married with a dog, a small house, and a small yard with a green lawn. Add five years and children? Traveling. Delicious food. Adventures. Sundays under the covers. Ice cream. Canoeing.

What I want always includes somebody else.

My self-worth has always depended on others. I don't think that means I'm incapable of doing things on my own. I just value having others to share my accomplishments with.

Here and later, and silly worries.

I'm taking anxiety medication. I can drive on the highway and talk to people I don't know now. Being friendly seems so easy, even though that's the way I've always been. It's funny how quickly the definition of "friendly" can change though. I used to be offended when others would assume I wasn't. Friendly doesn't mean outgoing, but it does mean caring about others. And even if you care about others, you do have to show it. I used to have a really hard time showing it. So, I'm discovering that I really do have a lot more friends than I thought. It's reassuring. It makes me feel good.

A lot of my friends have traveled abroad this summer, or are away right now. I've never gone any where alone. The idea intrigues me, but I'm not sure if I would like it. Or how I would afford it. I worry that my friends will change and furthermore see me differently. I might appear less adventurous. Or boring.

To tell you the truth, I'm really afraid about next year. I know that's far away, but I don't want to be alone again. I kid about getting a dog and living alone, but I think that's what I'm really going to have to do. I don't know how I'm going to handle it. Right now I have housemates who help clean up, and lock the doors, and check up on me when I'm out late. I'm capable, but it won't be ideal.

I guess that's come up for me because Steph and Danny are approaching 25, and they talk a lot about their post-grad plans. I'm not quite there yet, and I'm not ready to think about it.

I'm settled in my new home with my new housemates. I baked pumpkin cookies this evening, and pecan pie yesterday. I'm ready for fall. Ready for new ideas. It feels right.