On Monday I was bright eyed and had a bright outlook. Nearing my third day in, I’m elated at the thought of graduation and can only pray that the bags under my eyes will disappear upon receipt of my degree.

Things that happened:

1. I didn’t rush out the door. Yay organization.
2. Abigail took my picture. To be posted as soon as she sends it.
3. My professor said I needed a signed note for an excused absence. Double checked the syllabus. Yes, I am a senior in college.
4. Mom called to tell me that my dad’s flight to Chicago had to be stopped in Las Vegas because he had a medical emergency that required oxygen and such. He is doing well, though he is still there waiting for some heart test results so he can take more tests. Very scary stuff. I love my Dad.
5. Tried to lead a chorus of “Why Can’t We Be Friends” between my PC and the office Mac when file transfers continued to fail. Tomorrow I’m busting out the peace pipe.
6. Made an agenda for our meeting. Call me Business Cat. Meow.
7. Class. Mreh. Not as life changing as RateMyProfessor feedback said. I guess I must wait.
8. Left my Treo in the office. So goes the organization.
9. Did most of my homework.
10. Stopped doing homework to read the Internet. Did this for a while, to where I asked the blank address bar on my browser, “There must be some Web site that I go to regularly that I haven’t read yet.” I was wrong. I’d read it all.

What a day. Even though I hate this triteness, I am getting a little scared about not being in school anymore.

Heather just walked into the house. “HEEEEYYY!” It’s fun outbursts made for every-day occurances that make me want to live with boys. (Mom and Dad, please read on before forming any reaction that might result in long term judgements and/or decisions.)

You see, I live with seven women. (I hate saying women, but you’d probably think badly of me if I said girls.) It’s actually a pretty tame household, without the catty drama one would expect. Yet, the male visitors really brighten things up around here. This weekend, it’s Abigail’s Matt. In a few weeks, my Matt is coming. And there are several visits from AMR, Nate and John that keep us sane.

Living with boys could actually be an enjoyable time. Since our group has already defied the laws of mixing estrogen for prolonged periods of time, I figure our co-ed house would not fall prey to Real World Syndrome. (Although camera confessionals would be quite fun…)

This is all well and good, until I remember my brother’s stories of living with boys. Decorating the bathroom with pimple puss, chugging egg nog and then the stomach’s rejected egg nog and the over all smell. Gross and yet amazing that they manage to clean up so well.

Sierra is one of my favorite friends. I miss her terribly, as I have not seen her in a long time. So long in fact, I don’t even want to calculate the number of days or months. Even though I have not seen her, she still manages to be a voice in my head and a reason for the uncontrollable laughing fits I have when I am by myself in public.

The reasons I love her keep piling up, even in her absence. Exhibit A: The Christmas Present, sent with love from London.

There. That’s enough to get it out of my system.

Categorize as “I’ll Keep Your Secret Sass.” See also: Luke 12:3

Jobs I’ve Had
1. Everything paper girl (shredding, sorting, printing, etc.).
2. Copy Editor.
3. Intern.
4. The Chief.

Movies
1. A Date With Judy.
2. Empire Records.
3. Amelie.
4. Drop Dead Gorgeous.

Books
1. Elements of Style Illustrated.
2. All Quiet on the Western Front.
3. Catcher in the Rye.
4. AP Stylebook.

Places I’ve Lived
1. Ghetto-gone-snobby city, Northern California.
2. Ghetto-in-most-parts, Northern California.
3. Christian Bubble, California.
4. Have most people lived in at least four places?

TV
1. The Apprentice.
2. America’s Next Top Model.
3. Project Runway.
4. The Amazing Race.

Vacay Hot Spots
1. Hawaii.
2. Vegas! (Soon!)
3. New York, New York. (Soon!)
4. Washington.

Daily Reads
1. Dooce.
2. Cereal Box. No really, sometimes I sit and read every word on the cereal box.
3. E Online Fashion Police.
4. My own blog. Yeah, I think I’m great.

Favorite Foods
1. Steak.
2. Chocolate.
3. Ice Cream.
4. Chocolate Ice Cream.

Where I Wish I Was
1. With Matt.
2. With LPC’s ultimate team.
3. In the sun.
4. In my own house.

Who Is Tagged
1. Matt West.
2. Christine Laszlo.
3. Megan Koenig.
4. Sierra Briscoe.

The only thing that attracted my eye to this poem was a previous reader’s notes. There were arrows and underlines and words. My first thought: finally, some worthwhile notes from someone who understands poetry. I was saved, or so I thought. There were question marks a plenty and comments: describes night-gowns, do not relate w/ eachother, poem doesn’t seem to all connect together.

Crap. See, this is why I don’t like poetry. I tried to be artsy and obscure, but who was I kidding. And, that’s why I yell back in the face of this published crazy: WHO ARE YOU KIDDING?

Disillusionment of Ten O’Clock

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
WIth socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches tigers
In red winter.

And this crap is going to keep me from graduating? This school is trying to tell me that understanding this is the best use of my time and is imperative to being a well-adjusted and educated member of society?!

Going south on 101 reminded me why I am a California girl. I used to ever so lovingly regard Central California as a wasteland where lizards go to die. It’s what driving the 5 will make you think. Sunday’s drive changed my perspective … slightly. Central California is still a wasteland, save the coast. Farms, canyons, the most beautiful blue ocean hugging golden cliffs and beaches.

I’ve also changed my mind about the process of traveling. Picture this: me belting RENT, rap and showtunes at the top of my lungs (yes, I know I’m a strange one) or calling those people I never have a chance to, as my Jetta cruises at speeds the radar detector will allow. It’s really quite nice.

It’s the arriving part that I hate. Sure, it’s great to see missed friends, but I come with an overwhelming and impossible to-do list. I’ve overspent my vacation and the entire world that harbors on my shoulders pushes me down with all the weight one could imagine. Sigh. Looks up at countdown. Four months and three days. Couldn’t come soon enough.

Knowing it’s one of the last times doesn’t make it hurt any less. And I’m terrible at saying goodbye. Five weeks of tournaments and practice, snuggles and ice cream. Ingredients for a very difficult parting.

On my way back to school, I saw a sign for Avila Beach. Sand castles. Churros. Ocean tag. Swimsuits. I exited the freeway as if it were a forgotten habit.

What I found was nothing like what I remembered. No longer was it the funky beach town. It’s as if Tinkerbell sprinkled her magic Disneyland fairy dust over the place.

Avila and I are growing up. Things can’t be the same.

At least as I left, there were still screams of a sister imprisoned in a driftwood tipi that was reminiscent of days long ago.

Create a budget during the morning hours, when logic and math skills abound. That way, you won’t go to bed humming “It’s a Hard Knock Life,” only to feel guilty upon discovering your sleepy stupor cut the monthly income by half. I work 80 hours a month, not 40. Thank God.

I hate numbers. Why must they tease me so?