It's been three years, and it doesn't feel that long. Three years since grad school; three with a job. It's too easy to lose your sense of season in LA. Where there's a pattern the rhythm is wrong. Rain in winter, hot winds in the fall. I travel for work to places with a more familiar clock, but it's a disorienting exercise. March. . . in Oklahoma? In like a lion and out like a lamb like my old home?
Then there's the matter of the lack of school calendar. Freshman. Sophomore. Junior. Senior. New quarter; New quarter; New quarter; Break. New quarter; New quarter; New quarter; Break. No more.
Only sameness remains.
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