Glittering Indecision

What if I didn't go back to school this coming semester? What would I do with myself? I know I have a place to live rent-free and a job waiting for me come January out in Utah. That's an option, and in a way, an appealing one, because 1. I like (love) babies, and I would be a nanny for a very wonderful baby, and 2. I could be back in Utah to hang out with all these awesome people who were taken from me for two years to serve the greater good (and while I'm a big fan of the greater good, I really really missed these kids, and I'd rather have them with me than anywhere else). Also, 3., I'd get to be reunited with my roommate, whom I miss terribly.

The cons? It's Utah. I cannot live in Utah. I tried for six semesters to be happy there, and the culture differences combined with several other factors make it an impossibility.

I could also move to Switzerland with my good friend OtherJennifer. We would bake bread and trade the villagers for goat cheese and produce and live happily among the mountains. She proposed this idea to me last night, and honestly, the peace and happiness that eminated from it warmed my soul. I really really want Switzerland. But somehow I would feel irresponsible - like I was abandoning the friends whose lives I have loved for so long.

Or I could just suck it all up, figure everything out, and brave the Great Uncertain of actually going to school this semester and binding me to this choice.

Maybe that's it - I don't want to be fettered to any one choice right now, and that's my right, right now. I am only twenty-one, and I'll never be twenty-one ever again. I'm just not sure quite how I'm feeling right now, other than unbelievably stressed out with thinking about things continually. I could use a break.

Keeping The Sabbath Day Holy, Sort Of

I got the internet back! It feels good to feel like a real person again, and I confess I've come up with excuses that have allowed me to sit at my computer and luxuriate in internet-havingness.

Like right now, tonight. I could have gone watch 24 (And before you rabid fans attack me for having the GALL to turn down a single opportunity to see your beloved Jack in action...relax. Take a breath. Maybe another one...there you go. Feel better? Try doing that more often. I've seen how you get in the middle of the tenth hour, and the sight isn't pretty, with every artery in your neck strained to the utmost, your purpling faces betraying the unbearable tension. It's great, but I always always think how fortunate it is that I know CPR.), but instead I thought I'd come back to the ol' apartment. You see, I have fish, and they swim around in a little glowy tank, and I have a desk chair that is padded and soft and spinny that I haven't even had ONE hallway race with, and I have these gorgeous hardwood floors that were coated in so much dirt I didn't know how they kept from weeping themselves to sleep. Besides the fact that, you know, floors don't weep.

Note that I said were. I swiffered the whole thing, and it's GLOWING, and it feels silky smooth beneath my feet. It took a while to clean, but I figure as long as I'm cleaning floors, I have an excuse for STILL not having finished unpacking.

It's only been what, three months since I moved? I heard rumors that the girl who's moving in with me in a few weeks will be whitewashing the walls. She sounds like a sucker, doing all that work that I put off all summer - I bet I can totally convince her to put away my boxes for me.

And throw out that trash that's still sitting there. Yes, Keely, THAT trash.

Life Plans

Jennifer and I thought of old lady quirks tonight and we came up with a nice, fat list. Jennifer because she needs something to occupy her time before the man of her dreams sweeps her off her weary, paint-stained feet; me, because I think I already need a hearing aid, and my life plan necessitates a great deal of old lady hijinks to keep me occupied throughout my life.

But I realized tht my list is very sparse on the young lady hijinks, and that saddens me, as my springish path of only twenty-one years has a long way yet to wend before it creaks into grey, stiffened, crotchity old age.

I Know You've Missed Me

I haven't blogged in so long because the internet has been cut off from me.

There was a time when this would have caused instant panic. Don't get me wrong, it's still highly disconcerting. But I have that job thing and that Art and Mike Are Awesome and Must Be Hung Out With As Much As Possible thing and maybe even some of that maturity thing, where I've gotten to the point that I realize I will not explode if I do not have access to everything that has ever gone on ever. I may strain a great deal, and sweat, and be made uncomfortable, but I will not explode.

Probably, I mean. I can still access the internet at least a little, as evidenced by this post, so it's not as if I were cut off completely.

Oh, and also: My apartment has an ant infestation, and the little bugs are crawling all over the place. I was sitting on the bathroom floor today, doing something girly I'm sure, and a couple of them began crawling on my body. And I took it completely in stride, not even questioning their right to be there, on my body, the body that is mine and not theirs. It was only later that I realized that maybe I should have at least flicked them off.

Sisterhood Of The Traveling Pants

So. Well, so. Soooooo.

So, the pants I'm wearing may not be mine. They were laying at the foot of my dresser, right where I thought I'd tossed a pair of my jeans, and since they were the same brand, cut, and size of my jeans, and since they were in my room, I assumed they were mine, and pulled them on.

But then as I was walking, I felt something in my pocket and pulled out a tootsie roll stick and wrapper. Except I haven't had a tootsie roll in months, if at all this year, and I doubt that. So how in the world did the remnants of one make its way into my pocket?

My guess, my ONLY guess, is that these aren't my pants. Remember how there were four girls who crashed on the floor of my bedroom for a few days? One of them could have been careless and forgotten her pants, and it's not like American Eagle hipster jeans aren't popular.

So they may not be my pants, but I really have no idea. For all I know, someone could have stolen my pants and paraded around in them, grabbing up tootsie pops and snarfing them down, carelessly leaving the remains in one of my pockets for me to discover.

I just wish I had an answer.

I'm Not A Complete Sucker

A guy gave me a dollar last night to buy myself a lottery ticket. I pocketed it instead, and now I have a dollar instead of nothing.

What should I buy with the dollar?

Some Independent Thoughts

Happy Fourth of July, everyone!

That's all I really had to say. Oh, and I hope not EVERYONE had to get up at 7:50 a.m., because I know I did, and it wasn't fun. I wasn't really even aware that 7:50 a.m. EXISTED, and here I was, bundling myself through the chilly fog for a Fourth of July breakfast party. The french toast, however, was kinda worth it, and seeing all the hot air balloons, and watching the beginning of 1776 the musical - so it wasn't a total waste.

As soon as we got home, I wrapped in a blanket and fell asleep to the sweet sweet sounds of computerized death and woke an hour or so later to the realization that, Hello, it is July, and July is as hot as griddlecakes. If I were a dog, I think I would have been panting as I laid there prostrate on the couch, unable to move under the crushing weight of July humidity in the South.

This is why I did not live in the eighteenth century, with all of their silk stockings and powdered wigs and corsets and petticoats and miles and miles of fabric swarthing every inch of skin. Hooray for independence, but I would have given up long before I got to that stage.

Oh, and one last thing before I forget: So, I went to go feed my fish last night and was thoroughly startled to walk into my bedroom only to discover four unknown persons sleeping on my floor. Highly disconcerting, let me tell you. And they better not have been harrassing my fish in my absence.