Coffee Shop, Saturday Night

Combing through books at 11:35PM on a Saturday night, I feel a strange sense of comfort. TJ and Maomao are just behind me in a corner, chatting over tea. I'm not sitting with them because of work, but I feel their presence, and having them there makes it easier for me to plough through the words. I get a call from Ronald asking, "are you out?" (because, of course I would be out on a Saturday night). I reply matter-of-factly, "nope, I'm reading" (those books that JJ gave us). He wows a little and asks for club recommendations. His Canadian friends are in town, and apparently I give off the vibe that I go clubbing a lot, not the case, not anymore. I tell Maomao, I'm never going to Sanli to drink again. This will probably not be the case, but I mean it on a spiritual level. Sanli has no hold on me now, and I will probably not seek it out. Maomao asks, "why are you giving yourself so much pressure?"

"It's a passion project," I explain. After all the drinking, the men, the rage, all that's left is a sea of calm and a penetrating focus. I get up seven in the morning -- weekdays, weekends. I ride my bike to work. I'm using ABCD goal setting rules. I'm inching toward whatever that feels right, what feels good.

All is well.