i guess this is goodbye.

I tried quitting caffeinated products (mostly coffee) cold turkey so that I could fix up my sleep cycle. Let me just say that this lasted 36 hours with disastrous effects. How I can sleep for 13 hours without being sleep deprived is beyond me. ugh, another year, another epic battle against myself begins ...

But yeah, today I am moving back for real so if you want to know what I'm up to from now on you should probably send an email or something. Blogging time has been replaced by study time and drunky time. au revoir!

ugh

I hate baseball.

Is someone going to pay me back for 3.5 hours of lost sleep? Sean Henn, I'm looking at you.

get me out of here

All signs point to ... being at home is dismal!

I stayed up later than I have in a long time watching the Yankees' drawn out, painful loss to the Angels and consequently overslept this morning. Not like I missed much -- it's been 50 degrees and pouring rain all day.

Having exhausted most options for things to do in my house (showering, breakfasting, picking out a nice winter sweater to wear, and reading Jane Austen), I set out for Southbury to run some errands. I shivered in my car as I deposited a paltry sum of $12 into my checking account, then headed off to CVS for some random things I needed. Unfortunately, at home I do not often have the luxury of running errands anonymously. The woman ringing me out knew my mother and recognized me from years and years ago. So someone who knows me peripherally is now aware of my everyday purchases, including the fact that I am stupid and shallow enough to spend money on the textbook-sized September issue of Vogue. Whatever, not a big deal, but she also, like every adult I meet around these parts, had the need to inquire about my post-college plans. I escaped as quickly as I could once that topic came up, and left in a considerably worsened mood.

Back in the car, I flipped idly through my magazine for a few minutes before starting the engine. Seconds after I put the key in the ignition, my ears were assaulted with this awful repeated honking noise. Temporarily disoriented, I soon realized it was coming from my car. The alarm is set to go off if the engine is started too long after the car doors are opened (are most cars like this? I don't know). I start backing out to see if the noise will stop after awhile but that's a stupid idea, because of course it won't (otherwise what's the point of the alarm?). I have to park in a new space, get out, lock the door and open it again for my car to finally shut up. It is pretty embarrassing because all these really old people in their luxury sedans driving by have started giving me dirty looks like I am some kind of heinous criminal disturbing the peace of their stuffy old person town.

Fed up, I go to Starbucks in hopes of forcing myself to study biology over coffee but I get there and see that all the tables are taken. ugh! that never even happens, only today, the day when I realize I must go back to school immediately before I become a miserable person.

ps, This month's Vogue features one of our very own '09 classmates, p. 802 if you want to check it out. It's about heiresses who aren't screwing up their lives Paris Hilton-style. congrats ...

ikea odyssey and other things

(started writing this a few days ago, which is why I'm rambling about old news)

Didn't really do much Wednesday afternoon besides watch the Yankees lose but Colleen had called and wanted to get together so we planned a trip to ikea for school shopping. Of course nothing can ever go smoothly. She picked me up after dinner and we were driving along, catching up, until her car suddenly stalled at a light on 67. Some panicking ensued since we're both pretty clueless about cars but one of the dubious perks of small town life is knowing everyone around you. Mr. Ellis was behind us at the light and got out to push the car to the side until, with much luck, her engine started again.

Went back to my house to take my car, just in case, and faced the second dilemma of -- where is ikea? Anyone who has driven with me to hospice knows I mix up 91 and 95 N/S every single week. how am I supposed to remember the difference?? ... Anyway, I got on the highway in the wrong direction, had to get off, and almost drove past the correct on-ramp. Colleen noticed just in time and I veered to the right without looking, almost running over the curb / crashing into the guardrail. oops. Apparently the car in front of me saw and felt endangered -- they immediately pulled over to let me pass them. ha! what is embarrassing is that this is not the first time someone has mistaken me for a drunk driver. OK, sometimes my driving looks bad, but I'm always safe! never mind that I almost didn't get my license until I cried and promised to practice my deficient reversing skills :) ... but fourish years later I'm still alive and my car is still intact.

Sitting in this car at a light in front of ikea (finally), we pulled up next to a fire truck. Some slacker fireman was sitting on the side steps just staring into our window and smiling like a creep. He kept motioning for us to roll down the window, which we ignored to a point; eventually Colleen brought hers down to see if he actually wanted something. no, the first words out of his mouth were "don't ignore me!", then "where are you two ladies headed?" ... he continues with his moronic attempts to pick us up until the light turns green and I hightail it out of there midconversation. really, fireman? just because you are in a uniform does not change the fact that you are old, ugly, and dumb as rocks.

I mean, cheers to you, NHFD!

--

More fast times at the Lillian Goldman Law Library today... or not ... the place was empty as usual, minus an incredibly attractive 20-something guy with European accent NOS ... and um, a few assorted others. And it should be empty, because only crazy people like me hang out in libraries on beautiful August afternoons.

As far as the goals of the month, I have fallen juust short of (1), failed miserably at (2), have been working furiously at (3) -- sitting in front of the TV is so hard --, and well, never mind about (4). I think I really will be sad when I finish Gilmore Girls. Rory is so much more tolerable and fashionable once she gets to college, especially once she meets Logan (-sigh-) ... and I've gotten way attached to the characters and the witty dialogue. If only Yale were populated with real-life Logans (straight ones!) to date and receive Birkin bags from... just imagine...

two weeks until reality sets in!

super strange

So my google analytics account, which I play around with when I'm bored, tells me someone found this site yesterday by googling "johnny damon looks like dracula". Which would normally just be funny, because, hi, I totally agree. I mean, on the Sox he looked like Jesus but now that he's shaved and has those odd sideburns all he needs are some pointy teeth and he's good to go. I know I googled the dracula phrase a few months ago to see if anyone else thought the same, but since then the association hasn't really come to mind. What is weird is that I have not once mentioned Johnny Damon or dracula (ha) in my blog. It would be entirely impossible for anyone to google me that way. So why does my site counter claim otherwise? This furthers my suspicion that the internet is one huge Truman Showesque scheme and someone out there is messing with our heads. weird.

Anyway, good opportunity to give a shout out to the New York Yankees who are just killing everyone they play, minus last night. amazing comeback, guys, keep up the good work, cheers all around, even to Farnsworth for being his incompetent but hilarious self. easy to pitch a 1-2-3 inning now that your team's down by 12 runs, right?

--

Yesterday I went outlet shopping with mom in Woodbury, NY. I'd never been before but I now realize that the Woodbury outlets are pretty much the Disney World of shopping. I came home physically and mentally fatigued from all the shopping. Purchasing to browsing ratio was kind of low but I did get a fall coat that I love and some jeans, among other things. I really hate shopping for jeans and I hope not to do it again for a long time. Now I know why I always just go to the gap sales rack and pull out pants in my size to try on. When I am actively searching for nice jeans, it's always a disaster and I never find anything that looks good. whatever, I guess every girl has this problem?

Another disaster is that our coffee pot broke this morning before I got up so there is no coffee. Just imagine my cry of horror and anguish when I saw what had transpired as I slept. ha ... So now I guess I have to bring myself to Starbucks before I collapse back into my bed. life is hard.

books I've read this summer, and minimalist reviews

in between all that "hardcore" studying ...

Summer by Edith Wharton
--depressing

The Man of My Dreams by Curtis Sittenfeld
--fluffy

a bunch of Gossip Girl
--horribly addicting (ps I can't wait for the tv series! Sept. 19! ohmygosh!)

Prince of the Marshes by Rory Stewart
--inspired lots and lots of nonfictional love <3 ... I mean, not like Iraq isn't interesting in and of itself ... yeah ...

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
--I'm not suicidal, I promise, I just wanted to see what the fuss was about

The End of the Affair by Graham Greene
--not finished yet, but so far, I love
was a $1 impusive tag sale buy after I remembered I'd always wanted to read him... definitely worth it

today

Today Dan and I saw a midget hitchhiking in the antiques district of Woodbury.




I think that's all I need to write for now.