It feels so strange to be back and working and no longer keeping the notebook. The first days after I stopped the daily writing, I kept reaching for it randomly, thinking to put some inconsequential thought down. Now I’ve forgotten the habit already. I don’t even reach for it anymore. Today I realized I didn’t even have it with me when I had the idea to look back at something from New Orleans.

September, October, November, December. Almost four whole months of my life kept in one little notebook. Silliness documented throughout the day. Weird.

It feels strange being back at work. Day 2 and I feel like I’ve been here forever. My desk is starting to look like a real desk. Files are beginning to fill. Post-its are covering space. My notepad at working is gradually turning into a monster of the to do list, people to know, items to follow up on. The phone rang more today. Research became needed. Things.

It’s exciting and exhausting. My brain is a bit sluggish, at least in the work sense.

I come home, eat food, sit on my bed and shove my nose in a book. Reading three things at once. Harry Potter (yes, again, I know); one of the books The Pacific is based on, Helmet for my Pillow; something online for a friend of a friend. The online thing is in ten parts. I’m reading it a part a night, more than that and my eyes protest. I’ve spent all day staring at the screen.

Soon (I promise, soon) I’ll start my own writing again. I’m just not quite there yet. I’m trying to wrap my brain around this schedule that is going to be my life for the foreseeable future. I’m trying to make it feel normal, waiting for it all to sink in.

From nomad, gypsy, to office girl, assistant. I was living on peanut butter sandwiches and the kindness of my friends. Now I’m working in Beverly Hills.

Where one adventure ends, another begins?