" . . .justice will limp after you"

Long alone days, where for the briefest moments between reading assignments and work and wrestling with words I may feel some loneliness. Miss a life that distance convinces me is still back there somewhere; balance that with the humane levity I've garnered as of late. I could work until 1am every day of the week, and a night out feels like compromise and slack. I won't pit my challenge against any one else's, if your nights pass like this as well consider me amongst your brethren.

There's a routine here, in which I find solace. Discipline making the rigours of plowing through ordinary life smoother. Its a lubricant and conveyor belt for a process we used to strain and heave for. In the morning, the same delicious nutrition. Several hours of analysis and thinking about problems, learning how to navigate. An hour of physical exertion, inching towards nausea for a lack of a better goal. And then several hours each evening convinced that the sweat will pay off. Chasing down whispers and dreams and questions in order to distill and digress. The weekend merely allows one to sleep, or imbibe heavily the night before.

I think I moved to Boise for some solitude, and I've found it. Too much at times, but I can't resist the feeling that it will pay off. Can't help but think something fantastic will eventually happen, like it always has.