minalisms

I went to dinner and a movie with my girlfriends last night. It was the midnight showing of “The Twilight Saga: New Moon,” the film adaptation of the second novel in Stephanie Meyer‘s four-part series, and, yes, we were among hordes of fangirls.

I don’t know what was more awesome: the two hours of girl talk throughout dinner or the deliciously bronzed and buffed Quileute werewolves on the big screen. Decisions, decisions.

There is one thing I am sure of, however, and it is that I am no longer fit to horse around until 3 a.m. on a weeknight.

For someone who is big on doing nothing during her time off, I certainly did a bunch this weekend.

Trips to California do that; they’re never boring, and it’s during those trips that I remember just how many people I am connected to and how good it feels to be surrounded by those who understand you and your context.

I’m coping with that familiar melancholy that comes after saying goodbye (again) to my relatives and close friends out West — there’s just no one in St. Louis who compares to my crew of parents, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends.

But there’s a reason for that.

I’d be lying if I said the few(er), sometimes shallow relationships I have in St. Louis weren’t my own fault. One minute I am bragging about my preference to spend normal evenings and weekends at home doing nothing, and in the next breath I allude to the lack of connections I’ve made here in my new home city. And yet all this time the correlation had escaped me …