I’m at home in SJ with no direct internet connection, no car insurance and a room that looks like a tornado hit it twice over. It’s not as bad as I make it sound. There is this tiny spot in my room that picks up wireless from an unsecured, but very generous “belkin54g.” I used to leave my wireless network open for those internet-addicts without their addictive. Then, I realized that is similar to my lofty aspiration while taking the bus once upon a time. When I was young(er) and taking the bus, I used to despise public transportation so much that I swore to myself when I was all grown up with a car, I would offer a ride to everyone waiting at the bus stop–or all that would fit in my hypothetical car. “Maybe I would get a van,” I thought.

Aside from the dangers of both scenarios, I finally realized that some may benefit from no internet access (I think I may be included) and some may actually enjoy taking the bus (I began to enjoy it after some time). I suppose we all need to eventually draw our lines between overt and necessary help.

I’m moving out Friday and while I sit here in my pity excuse for a room, in my little hotspot from belkin54g, I realize that the idea of home is transient, however cynical that may be. The idea home is built on comfort and comfort is usually built on people and relationships. I think the next logical conclusion to make is that relationships are transient but I won’t go that far. Home can be physically replicated–I am fully aware of this–I am trying to bring a bevy of things into my next dorm. I’m going to miss my mum, her presence and her food. These last few days of waiting are so blah (Haha.. Oxford English Dictionary’s definition of blah: blah |blä| informal used to substitute for actual words in contexts where they are felt to be too tedious or lengthy to give in full : the typical kid, going out every night, blah, blah, blah.). I’m finding myself oscillating between feelings of anticipation/excitement and reluctance/lethargy. This is all very “blah.”

On a good note, I am wildly excited that the NY Times is not making me pay for TimesSelect, in other words, making me pay to read Maureen Dowd’s column. About time they realized that it wouldn’t be as monetarily beneficial as advertisements would be! Also Happy Fall, almost.

I accidentally had my caps lock while writing the title, but maybe that would have been appropriate as well.I’d rather be tired from lack of sleep than excess of sleep–doesn’t it seem backwards and so wrong to be because you were in a deep slumber for nearly 10 hours? I wished that fatigue was the excuse to my listening to the Grammar Girl podcast while walking to class this morning. But alas, it wasn’t and it was very much out of free-will.Anywho, while addressing the Comp Lit Honors seminar: “I was very smart and cocky.. just like you all,” said Mrs. Velcic, dancing along the lines of accusatory and farce.Classic! …But I guess only the smart, cocky ones thought so.

Seriously. I always come back from these psuedo-leaves saying something about being alive and not being arrogant in assuming someone cares. That was succinct enough, right?

I have about one more week of this nutty “Writing Intensive” program. So far, I’ve written about 6 papers, took my midterm, read an insurmountable number of books in 5 weeks and studied. I’ve been on an airplane 5 times during my time here, had my luggage lost at LAX, had a flight delayed, took LA public transit and walked. I’ve realized that traveling alone, especially to and from the same location, becomes awfully tedious. Also, waiting an hour to picked up after a flight, hearing about a car accident and then calling an old friend to pick you up all seems surreal.  

But I suppose that’s life and it’s fabulous really.

I think it was nearly a year ago that I met someone who managed to make an otherwise closet-romantic, cynic like myself fall hopelessly in love. Who else will stay up with you until 2AM and help you write a paper due the next morning? Not to mention, he puns, too.

Blogging has become secondary because I’ve realized that the more you know, learn and experience, the harder it becomes to manage and articulate all of that into a neat little blog. Blogs are just like conversations with your (vain) self. 

And we’re all so vain.