I started writing a long entry about how I'm taking a few days off next week so my parents can end their marriage, but I couldn't finish it. It was also pretty depressing and so few people actually read this site these days that I don't see why I should rehash the details of my personal life when they probably have to listen to me whine at length about it in real life anyway.

(If you're reading this and haven't spoken to me recently, you can just skim the archives. Search for words like "father" or "dad", "asshole", and "red headed midget slut" and you'll probably come up with enough material to draw some conclusions about my feelings on this. Naturally, nothing has changed except the length of time since my father seemed like a normal person -- that (naturally) has only grown.)

So on the subject of less personal matters, I turn to the ever-popular standby: Wow, it's getting late.

I don't mean late as in the daytime, but late as in "How did I get this old?" I had a dream recently about picking out classes for the next semester and woke in a slight panic -- had I missed some deadline? Wasn't I supposed to do that soon...?

And then I remembered, perhaps a year too late, that I'm not going to school anymore, maybe ever again. Over a year has passed since I left the hallowed halls of academia and life has gone on without me there. They're standing in line at the Penn Book Center complaining about how they can't charge this one to Bursar and assembling ugly furniture from IKEA and walking out of classes two minutes after they began because some of the first few words out of the professor's mouth included "mandatory Friday recitation" or "attendance grade". Without me.

I sometimes sit in my bed that I bought (well, Discover did and I'm gonna pay 'em back one of these days) in the apartment that I pay for, procrastinating before going to the fulltime job I have and wonder how I actually became a grown-up. Labor Day isn't a depressing end of summer vacation (I never really got one anyway); just the promise of a lower electricity bill around the corner.

I'm making resolutions these days: to eat better, go to the gym more, wash the dishes right away, instead of after a few days (the last one I am not doing terribly well with, but I hope to get better). I should probably add "writing more" to that list, but it's so hard to know where to start.

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