Decisions, Decisions.

I think I'll be an English major. Yes? Yes. Yes? Maybe...

I decided I want to get my Ph.D. in English Literature, so that I can teach books for the rest of my life and essentially be Karen Karbiener. Who is this woman, you ask? Well. She is my idol down to her skinny black boots and her sleeveless shell dresses. I think life would be pretty fantastic if I ended up like her.

Brit Lit and Lit Int here I come!

Bliss.

I'm so excited but so scared at the same time.
How do I tell her I'm leaving?
How do I tell her it's not her fault but kind of is her fault but that even if she tried harder it wouldn't have changed a thing?

The truth is, I never wanted to like her. I just felt like I needed to, and I'm not used to someone not naturally becoming a friend when they are in such close proximity.

I shouldn't be so concerned.

Bridges.

Obviously, I've always known that Manhattan is an island, but when you're in the heart of it, you forget so easily that it's surrounded by water and these fantastic, gorgeous bridges that you only see if you're on either the coast, or like me, at the tip.

On the bus ride to school, which sounds ridiculous because in college you shouldn't need a bus, I see three bridges. From my apartment window, I see my favorite bridge in all of the United States, possibly the world, but I'll know that better once I go to Prague.

It's cliché to think like this, but I find bridges to be so powerfully beautiful, so magnificent. The idea behind a bridge is equally clichéd, simply because most people use the phrase "burning bridges." Why burn a bridge? They're wonderful. You'll never get across otherwise. There's no reason to forget everything. Because if you don't look at that bridge, you'll never remember where you were before.

Warehouses

I don't know who decided to start having massive ragers in warehouses, but whoever it was must have been a pretty cool guy. We start the night by an overwhelming concern of being lost in an area of Brooklyn where most of us have never been. For a bit, things look pretty nice, like a little bit of the suburbs more closely built up, and the hideous presence of the BQE. We end up in what seems to have been a previously industrialized area that has died down since industry has pretty much vacated the five boroughs. Obviously we know the way.

Enter stage two, dancing on a stage after a couple beers and after having several more, someone ends up on a table. Running into people I know via 6 degrees of separation, I am slowly finding myself overwhelmingly intoxicated, knowing in the back of my head it will soon be time to leave. Dancing, feeling good about the current situation and the people I'm with, I see Paulie Bleecker. We kiss and he tells me his name is Ricky - a "pre-med student like everyone else living on the coolest floor in Lafayette" - but that I can call him Michael. As in Michael Cera. As in, if I were sober, I would have laughed and walked away, but being drunk and thinking this guy actually looks like Michael Cera, I go with it.

I woke up still drunk and somehow managed to make bracelets for four hours with 5 year olds. I amaze myself.

At least I stayed sober for the better half of yesterday.