(no subject)
I am just a busy little bee this week. My past few have been really chill, but something about this week was a bit crazy.
It all started when I got home from work on Monday. It was unusually busy for a Monday, but duh, it was Halloween and it was raining so parents bring their little children to the mall instead of letting them roam the wet, cold streets. I really don't like Halloween, but I love looking at costumes. There were a lot of lame princesses and weird scary masks, but also some really cute, original stuff. My favorite was this little boy in a silver box and little silver arms and legs and wires attached to it. too.cute.
Anyways. I made a lot of money in tips because I'm amazing like that, and when I got home, my mom was sitting in our dinning room with the Loyola application spread out on the table. I nearly peed my pants. She had already started a list of activities I'd been involved in, and I never realized until that moment how involved it stuff I really have been over the summer. All of those lame seminars and camps I went to over the summers have really paid off. Yay politics and rotary!
But yeah. From that moment on, I had the college junk running through my system. On Tuesday this lame lady talked to our bio class about DeVry(sp) and basically career choices and junk. I completely flipped a bitch (which is not out of character) and ran to that fat bastard our school calls a guidance counselor. What a tool. He was too busy getting shit together for the 8th grade open house. I yelled at him and then ran to the office before I started crying. Hahaha. Once I got into the office, I was a river that couldn't be stopped. Damn that office and the many tears I shed in it. I call my mom and went home. I only had Econ left and that class is a complete joke...even though Mr. Balestri is hothothot.
I felt like I had no direction, but my mom set up a meeting with the counselor from Hall and I talked to her for a good hour and I finally have direction. Really, I had had it all along...I was just too busy worrying about how my career choice wasn't on the DeVry lady's list.
East Coast, here I come..
So last weekend me and Nico visited U of I. Oh god, what a good time. I finally got to meet Tashio. He was definitely everything I expected and more. Who knows what's going on with that. I sure as hell don't. I never do. But, and this is really stupid, for some reason I feel this weird connection with him. I felt it Friday night and I still feel it now. Who knows. Maybe there is something ahead of us...maybe it's the hormones from my birth control. Fate and/or Seasonel are definitely tricky.
Anyways. I decided to try and win him over by making a care package. I've already got a few things settled in a cute little box...now on to the hard part...the dreaded mixed cd. I have a bad habit of starting something and then getting really really into it and making it into this huge thing. I did the same thing when I tried making a mixed cd for Eric and it turned into 3 cds of my favorite songs that I almost didn't want to give away. As of right now, I've gone through nearly half of my cd collection and picked over 40 songs that either a) I love, b) speak to me personally, c) I think he will love, and d) are just plain amazing. As stereotypical as this sounds, I really do like music. I'll get in kicks where I'll listen to one cd in my car for months and then discover a gem I had hidden in the stacks of my cd rack that becomes the new cd on endless rotation.
Tomorrow is Loyola. Tomorrow I see what very well could be the college I attend. It could be the place I mold and discover myself as a person. Or it could be really boring and too expensive. OOOOOOoo Whooooo knooooowwwwssssss...
EDIT EDIT EDIT: Ugh fuck me! Why do I feel so fucking crappy. This is lame. I am afraid to get up from this mother effing computer desk because I don't want my mom to see me crying. My am I so fucking lame? I just really need someone to vent to, but is that possible? No. Never. I don't feel like going to this Halloween dance because I'm tired and I don't want to hang out with fucking Leg up Cut up. AH motherfucker!
It all started when I got home from work on Monday. It was unusually busy for a Monday, but duh, it was Halloween and it was raining so parents bring their little children to the mall instead of letting them roam the wet, cold streets. I really don't like Halloween, but I love looking at costumes. There were a lot of lame princesses and weird scary masks, but also some really cute, original stuff. My favorite was this little boy in a silver box and little silver arms and legs and wires attached to it. too.cute.
Anyways. I made a lot of money in tips because I'm amazing like that, and when I got home, my mom was sitting in our dinning room with the Loyola application spread out on the table. I nearly peed my pants. She had already started a list of activities I'd been involved in, and I never realized until that moment how involved it stuff I really have been over the summer. All of those lame seminars and camps I went to over the summers have really paid off. Yay politics and rotary!
But yeah. From that moment on, I had the college junk running through my system. On Tuesday this lame lady talked to our bio class about DeVry(sp) and basically career choices and junk. I completely flipped a bitch (which is not out of character) and ran to that fat bastard our school calls a guidance counselor. What a tool. He was too busy getting shit together for the 8th grade open house. I yelled at him and then ran to the office before I started crying. Hahaha. Once I got into the office, I was a river that couldn't be stopped. Damn that office and the many tears I shed in it. I call my mom and went home. I only had Econ left and that class is a complete joke...even though Mr. Balestri is hothothot.
I felt like I had no direction, but my mom set up a meeting with the counselor from Hall and I talked to her for a good hour and I finally have direction. Really, I had had it all along...I was just too busy worrying about how my career choice wasn't on the DeVry lady's list.
East Coast, here I come..
So last weekend me and Nico visited U of I. Oh god, what a good time. I finally got to meet Tashio. He was definitely everything I expected and more. Who knows what's going on with that. I sure as hell don't. I never do. But, and this is really stupid, for some reason I feel this weird connection with him. I felt it Friday night and I still feel it now. Who knows. Maybe there is something ahead of us...maybe it's the hormones from my birth control. Fate and/or Seasonel are definitely tricky.
Anyways. I decided to try and win him over by making a care package. I've already got a few things settled in a cute little box...now on to the hard part...the dreaded mixed cd. I have a bad habit of starting something and then getting really really into it and making it into this huge thing. I did the same thing when I tried making a mixed cd for Eric and it turned into 3 cds of my favorite songs that I almost didn't want to give away. As of right now, I've gone through nearly half of my cd collection and picked over 40 songs that either a) I love, b) speak to me personally, c) I think he will love, and d) are just plain amazing. As stereotypical as this sounds, I really do like music. I'll get in kicks where I'll listen to one cd in my car for months and then discover a gem I had hidden in the stacks of my cd rack that becomes the new cd on endless rotation.
Tomorrow is Loyola. Tomorrow I see what very well could be the college I attend. It could be the place I mold and discover myself as a person. Or it could be really boring and too expensive. OOOOOOoo Whooooo knooooowwwwssssss...
EDIT EDIT EDIT: Ugh fuck me! Why do I feel so fucking crappy. This is lame. I am afraid to get up from this mother effing computer desk because I don't want my mom to see me crying. My am I so fucking lame? I just really need someone to vent to, but is that possible? No. Never. I don't feel like going to this Halloween dance because I'm tired and I don't want to hang out with fucking Leg up Cut up. AH motherfucker!