I think about time zones a lot.
Because the majority of my most formative friendships began on tumblr, all of us flung across the globe, all of us online at strange hours just so we could catch each other.
Because I’ve shuffled between Eastern, Central, and Pacific throughout my 29 years of living in nine different cities.
Because every relationship I’ve ever been in has, for a significant stretch, been long distance.
Because of that summer I wasn’t sleeping and kept a mental catalog of which friends I could text when it was 2, 3, 4, 5 o’clock in the morning my time without worrying about it being a bad time for them.
Because my dad was overseas a lot when I was growing up and once lived in a place with a half-hour time zone, and no one eve...