NYC.

I've been quite the slacker for the last few weeks. Whoopsies. I've been busy, you know, finishing my undergraduate career. No biggie.

I'm in NYC with a good friend right now, staying with my aunt and uncle and my little (adorable) cousins. I also went home last weekend for my younger sister's high school graduation. After the last-- somewhat rocky-- few years, it's kind of amazing that she not only graduated but that she graduated with high honors. I'm proud.

I was back at school for one night, between home and NYC, and it was very strange and empty. All the underclass(wo)men have moved out, so there are really only 600 people on a campus made for 2000. I wonder how strange it will be when I get back for senior week events. No classes, no underclass friends, no meetings... very odd. I guess I'll have plenty of time to take pictures, hang out, relax, and reminisce.

My school gives us a really odd week and a half between the end of finals and graduation. It's, I guess, a time for the seniors to really reconnect and fall back in love with the campus and the school. To forget the stress and pressures of the last four years. You know, so when they call us in 3 months asking for money, we'll remember W as it was for the last 2 weeks rather than the last 4 years. Right.

In other ruminations:
California has disappointed me. In upholding Prop 8, the State of California has upheld and supported prejudice and closedmindedness. I was just talking with a friend who made the excellent point that if the courts had overturned a voted decision, it would be pretty upsetting. It would be, I suppose, undemocratic. But. Prejudice, misunderstanding, and hatred (albeit underlying and not necessarily blatant) are unacceptable, and I find it reprehensible that Prop 8 ever even passed. Let alone was upheld as constitutional in California. Come on, CA. Really, now?

I guess I should just graduate now and go out into the world to, you know, change it. Or something.

An all-nighter and my last day of undergrad.

I just pulled my first all-nighter ever (over 4 years at college, that's quite the accomplishment). So, to celebrate finishing my paper, decorating the campus, and it being the last day of classes ever (if I think too hard about that, I might cry...), I stayed up to watch the sunrise.

And then I thought... well, if I'm going to stay up and look out my window, I might as well go out there and take some pictures.

So I went out in my pajamas and slippers, toting my Canon Rebel, and wandered the campus. It was lovely.

Dark when I first got outside.

Someone left their bike under a tree that shed its flowers. Quite pretty.

And then I discovered that we were, in fact, able to hang a banner from the tower on campus! A victorious moment for the class of 2009!

I took a moment to watch a goose (and a few swans, although they're not in this photo) on the lake. The fog is beautiful, and I never get to see it-- it always burns off before I wake up.

So lovely.


And when I got back to where I started, it was light out. And now it's even brighter. Which means it's probably time for me to get to bed.

I'm getting emotional about leaving here again. Sigh.

Weddings.

So as you may know (or have gathered), I attend a women's college in Massachusetts. There seems to be a massive hormone rage sweeping the area lately, because everywhere I turn, there's someone talking about weddings, children, or babies. I've started feeling somewhat freakish, if only because I have never once in my life thought about those things.

So I decided to go ahead and google "wedding" and see what came up. See if any of it struck a chord with me. What I have gathered is that there are pretty dresses.


There are ugly dresses.

I can't see myself in any of them. I have never once thought about engagement rings, wedding rings, wedding dresses, bridesmaid dresses, colors, flowers, or centerpieces in my life. I can't picture myself at an altar, or outside, or even in a courthouse, committing myself to someone.

It's just so counterintuitive. I love planning things, I love parties and events, I love getting dressed up. So why would I not have thought about my future wedding?

And you might think that because it's been brought to my attention, I will go ahead and start planning or thinking about it. I have realized, however, that it won't hold my attention. I don't get excited about it. I am unenthused.

Maybe it's because I haven't met the right person (and even if I do meet the right person, it might not be legal for me to marry him/her), or maybe... maybe it's because I'm just not interested.

And that would be ok, right?

I live in a beautiful place.

As I was driving back to the parking garage tonight, I was suddenly broadsided by the simple fact that, in a month, this place (this lovely, lovely place) will no longer be home.


I think I might grow particularly attached to the places I live (I teared up when my mom said she was thinking about selling our house), but I am truly lucky to have lived in such a wonderful place for the last four years.


When else will I ever live with a lake literally out my window, in my backyard? The thought that, although I have left this place many times over my tenure here, returning will never be the same: it makes me unbearably sad. Sure, I'll return for reunions or visits, but this place will never truly be home again.



And I'll miss it. I will never rush to class again, I will never lounge or goof around in the campus center as a student again. After I walk out of the dorm on June 6th, I will never be allowed in one unattended again. This place, June 6th, ceases to be home, and my relationship with it changes forever. I intend to spend as much time loving this place as I possibly can over the next month. It's not all bad-- I'm leaving a lot of things behind, things I don't necessarily like. But the idea that I will never really feel at home here again make me quite sad.

But for now, I live in a beautiful place.

Time-out

I think that time-out is one of the best ideas ever. This comes up today because I've been in New York babysitting my little cousins (6 and almost 4 years old) this weekend. They are brothers who have lived their whole lives in an apartment in New York City. My mom is here with me, and we've been discussing how hard raising kids in an apartment must be.

It's not like you can just send them outside to play with the neighbor kids, like I was sent to do in the suburbs where I grew up. A lot of tension and energy build up in an apartment on a rainy day like today. Tempers get short-- both on the kids' side and the adults' side. I believe the boys have been sent to their rooms no fewer than 5 times each today.

Probably half of those times, they were actually misbehaving. The other half, I needed them out of my face so that I wouldn't explode. My mom has been taking time-outs at fairly regular intervals too. Between a lack of sleep (kids waking us up between 5 am and 7 am each [ahem, weekend] morning) and screaming, fighting, and general little boy mayhem, we're all pretty grumpy here. Which is why time-outs have been a lifesaver.

Wow, in writing this, I've clearly tempted fate. For the last half hour, the kids had been sitting nicely watching Spiderman 2. But just now there was a kerfluffle, and the boys were sent to their rooms for 5 minutes.

Which leaves me, joyously, in silence. My own little time-out. Well, until they start screaming again. But for now, it's good. I love it. No real punishment, the boys get some time to themselves, and I get quiet.

But really. If this weekend hasn't been excellent birth control, I don't know what would be.