could it be?

I've noticed a remarkable thing lately: the days (which for months have dragged) are flying by. And they're full. I get home on Friday and it doesn't occur to me anymore to bawl my eyes out, the weekend of solitude stretching before me. The solitude is scented with incense, a new herb garden, lots and lots of friendly cat breath. The weekends have friends in them. Not people. Not forced conversation in a too-noisy bar, but friends, who are more familiar all the time. Friends for watching movies at home with, playing board games with, for going to potentially lame but possibly cool things with because even if it was lame we'd have fun.

I said at the start how the women and men in my program are uncommonly delightful. Sharp, thoughtful, funny, definite people with substance to tap into and learn from. I'm glad to say it again and mean it more the second time. I feel pushed to be better in different ways from being around them. It gets more interesting now, as we've covered the awkward initial ground. We're getting to know each other. Which I have a feeling is going to be fulfilling. With genuinely cool people (and that they are), you're rarely disappointed.

Beyond the people though. The sense of home is growing. The cold weather helps. :) And the time. My apartment doesn't feel like a weird place anymore, it feels like mine. My paintings, my scarves, my sprawling plants. My curtains and windows and walls. My bed, with sheets that no longer have the creases from being fresh out of their packaging. I still hate Gainesville. But I don't hate living there. I don't feel like I've moved to another planet. Anymore.

The questions which have tortured me the past half year are also fading. The "imposter syndrome" lives on, but it's not so crushing at the moment. :) The weight of - what? fear? pressure? - is there but lighter; it pushes me forward. Instead of sending me into fits of insomniac cold sweats. I might not be a rock star researcher or anything, but I'll do a good job. I can do this. And I belong here. I can't describe what it feels like to finally own that. I belong here.