Zero feels very good.  Very adult, even though I know typical adulthood involves car loans and mortgages, etc., etc., etc.  Not that I don’t have debt — I definitely do — but I feel like there’s finally this balance to my financial life with little uncertainty ahead.  Like I could just hang out in the black for a while, as long as I want to.  And still eat out without feeling too guilty.

Money’s a weird thing for me…  I’m not exactly motivated by it, but I can’t deny my desire for the security it brings (or that I think it can bring — nothing is definite).  Anyway, I feel like a slightly different person today because my assets outweigh my debt.  If I needed to pay off the debt right now, I could.  That feels good.  I thought I’d share.

Leap Year.  What a funny thing.  I kind of love it — that our entire calendar system is not exactly perfect, that we’re off by a quarter day a year, somehow, and have to make it up sort of arbitrarily at the end of a short month.  It reminds me that time itself is a construct, really.  There are days and nights and summers and winters, sure, but there kind of aren’t hours and minutes in the natural sense, are there?  Those are just our divisions, our ways of making sense of the world…

Anyway, leap year makes me think in fours, naturally.  I think of 2004, when I was living in a little studio, hanging out with a boyfriend who I think I already loved but hadn’t said as much to yet, working my first job out of college, getting by.  I think of 2000, when I was in the dorms, missing home but loving my classes, sexing fruit flies and simultaneously trying to get good grades and get over my desire to get good grades.  I think of 1996, my freshman year of high school, with a sister who’d just shown me the fragility of life, a boyfriend I wasn’t ready for, great friends, and the world in front of me.  I’d like to say I think of 1992, but I don’t really remember much of it, or of 1988, or of 1984.  This is just my seventh February 29th.  I’ll be 30 when the next one rolls around.  In seven more I’ll be 54.  I know that guessing what they’ll bring is futile — at this point in my life, I can’t even begin to predict where I’ll be in four years…  That makes me feel just as free as it does uneasy.


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