The keyboard that I bought to bring to school is mechanical. The buttons make good sounds besides the space bar. It has a lower and more pronounced “boom-bap” compared to the “t-sha” of the other keys. I was anxious it might be too loud for the quiet/silent study areas at my university’s library.

Today was my first day of Graduate school. I am happy summer is ending. This was one of the hardest seasons of my life. I lost my dad in June. Half of my summer was planning his funeral and the other half was cleaning out the house. Every pair of pajama pants, tweed jacket, sports merchandise, dog-themed socks hurt me to pack up. No one tells you how lonely grief is. I wonder if I would still feel this way if I had gotten help from my family clearing my dad’s things. I have him in an urn in the living room. He doesn’t want to be there. He wants to be spread in his favorite lake in Vermont— but I haven’t mustered up the spare emotion to take him there. Will I have to do that alone too?

With the school year here, I am finding myself able to prioritize my own life again. Today, after several hours on campus, I came home and mowed the lawn. I haven’t mowed the lawn since July. It was starting to look like no one lived here. Sometimes I feel swallowed up by the house, I think my lawn was symbolic of that. After, I took a shower and vacuumed the white rug I foolishly purchased several months ago before I understood the true filth dogs carry. They are sweet, excellent protectors, and the ideal snuggle partner, but they are dogs and despite my affectionate feelings towards them they are natural magnets to dirt.

For dinner, I had seven homemade pork and tofu dumplings. For dessert I ate one of those Japanese ice creams that looks like a fish. It was matcha flavored. I took a hit from a bong that I recently acquired. Its inherited name is Big Bertha. Bertha is extra large rolled in glass beads. It was my friends, she gave it to me on Saturday. I hadn’t really been smoking for a while but it has actually been helping me with my feelings of inadequacy when I am at home. I have gotten many chores done since yesterday, in part I thank her and in part I thank myself. There is nothing more frightening to me than falling back into crippling depression. Once, I did not get out of bed for four months. I thought I was going to die, failed and frail. I still think about that time a lot. That version scares me into pushing myself until it is nearly impossible to compare myself to her.

Watching TV yesterday I heard something wise. While in Uruguay, Bourdain and friends discuss happiness. A woman says something along the lines of “true happiness is not supposed to be all the time.” She talks about how she had just been married and was happy all day. How she could not remember a day before that she was truly happy for the entire day. This sentiment really comforted me. I think looking at happiness as a treat rather than a standard of living is much more forgiving. How happy can you really be if you feel it constantly? Perhaps you are just an optimistic individual. At this point in my life I still give off a sunny disposition, but that should not be confused with happiness. I am expressing an appreciation for the opportunity of happiness.

The last time I felt truly happy was on July 18th. I am the oldest cousin by five years, with my youngest cousin twenty years younger than me. The second oldest graduated college and we all got together to celebrate. I did not spend any time with the adults. The kids and I splashed in the pool for hours. We played games, competed for the biggest cannonball waves, looked for treasure. I felt maternal and simultaneously infantile. After swimming, my nine year old cousin asked “wait, are you even a kid?”. I didn’t know how to respond. I am at a place in my life where I deal with adult situations, go to work, have car payments yet I am in still in school, childless, and at times, dabble in immaturity. Aging is complex, similarly to happiness and sorrow.