I graduated almost a year and a half ago. Listening to Laura on the phone this evening, I’m overwhelmed with this weird in-between-passage of time.

I miss Laura. We had so much to catch up on in this phone call, and there was no way we could fit it all in tonight. Laura and I bonded my last semester at school. I listened to her neurosis on late night drives to nowhere, just because she called me and said “I need to get out. Now.” She was the only one who understood my boy drama, because she was the only one who knew HeWhoShallNotBeNamed. And tonight we were catching up on our most recent failed relationships. We’re both proud of ourselves for our emotional composure. But we’re still both wondering…

I miss her, and I miss Sebastian, and I need to go on a drive to Dunkin Donuts at Exit 17 right now.

Tonight I was supposed to have dinner with Xina, and it didn’t happen, because she is unrealiable about making plans.

And yeah, I’m annoyed with her in terms of “making-plans-that-you-can’t-keep” because…well I don’t do that, and because it’s like, I never get to see her, so I completely free my schedule and change stuff around for her, and she’ll just call at the last minute and be like “yeah, so it’s too much of a pain to come into the city.”

But, at the core, I just miss her. I miss her living across the hall in my house. I miss coming home from a medicore date and being able to go straight to her room. That’s what I did that whole last semester at Skidmore; when I was trying to date to forget HeWhoShallNotBeNamed.. When I was going out with Rob…I came home that night, after spending hours getting ready and went straight to her room; “Well…he’s smart…and he’s really, really sweet and nice, and he’s not HeWhoShallNotBeNamed., but…”

And she finished my sentence; “…but he’s not HeWhoShallNotBeNamed.?”
“Yeah…exactly.”

So meh. I’m just missing my friends tonight.

* Except in 8^th grade when I was in my phrase of going out of my way to appear “cynical.” I think this just consisted of wearing a lot of black and making a show of broodingly writing in my notebook? Brent, can you confirm? And I remember stamping my foot and saying “Valentine’s Day is a useless attempt by insecure males to woo their mates with candy and flowers.” In retrospect, Valentine’s Day is usually more about insecure females than males, but I was thirteen, so I demand you forgive my shortsightedness.

I think I must’ve overdosed on the Sudafed yesterday, because I was all buzzing and out of it, and in retrospect, the drugs were probably hurting more than they were helping. It was a “I’m having trouble forming sentences” kind of day.

Anyway. Tuesday was supposed to be an unofficial work X-Mas Party/Celebration of the “Shock and Awe” of CK’s one year anniversary here. Almost everyone who was supposed to go skipped work, and those who made it in had long commutes home ahead of them, so it wound up being just CK and I. We of course toasted to Jersey, and  to the Libertarian Revolution.

CK has really become my favorite co-worker, and some of it really is a “It’s a Jersey thing. You wouldn’t understand.” But Tuesday was good for conversation about politics, relationships, work/school, travel, and drunken adventures. His girlfriend dislikes me immensely, because she doesn’t like her boyfriend getting along with girls, and the way this has unfolded has been very amusing. It’s very junior high-ish. Office politics are silly. Anyway, Tuesday night was one of those times when you have a conversation with someone and realize that you’ve become friends, which was nice.

I was supposed to go to The Boy’s last night, especially since there are now cats at his place, but he had to work late, and I didn’t feel well, so I went home, did laundry, and crashed. I really need to start packing up the apartment and getting ready to move, which is a hassle.

Other than that, I am simply looking forward to a four-day weekend. It doesn’t feel like Christmas; I guess I’m bombarded with all the X-Mas stuff so much everyday that I just don’t see it. I will be thankful, however, that I am not working at B&N café.

CK just sauntered into work — on time for once — and raised his fist in a show of Jersey solidarity. We wished each other a Happy Transit Strike; “man, I know this must suck for most New Yorkers, but if you’re from Jersey, it feels like a Holiday!”

I was coming in from Bloomfield this morning, and my train to Penn Station was late. Penn Station was a mess, and there were swarms of people on the street. And then I hit Times Square and it was like ‘Where did all the people go?’ I think a lot of people stayed home, maybe, or are just late, because the streets seemed pretty quiet north of Times Square. It could stand to be a few degrees warmer and I wish I didn’t have a cold, but it is indeed a very Happy Transit Strike.

CK and I are both ridiculously smug about our unaffected commutes, because there is much bitching and moaning at the office. Even if NJ Transit were to strike, there’s private competition in Jersey and still would be ways of getting to work. Jersey is the best. NYC liberalism + common sense conservatism. I am so, so sad that I am going to be moving out of JC.

The phrase ”On the eve of Thanksgiving” reminds me of Survivor Series. Lex Luger did a Thanksgiving PSA-ish thing one year. That was before he went crazy and killed his wife. Shut up. This was like, 1994.

It is freezing out, but I was mildly out of it this morning, and did not notice it on my walk to the train station. I do love that train from Bloomfield goes straight to Penn Station so I don’t have to bother with the crowded PATH. Seriously, it’s a tiny, little thing that just makes my joyful. And uninterrupted morning reading time is always lovely.

I always walk to work from 33^rd, but this morning it was just to cold to make it 20 blocks in a thin, short-sleeved shirt and a not-very warm coat. I need to get a winter jacket. There is no way I’m taking the subway all winter. I wish that I were tall enough to wear a long coat, because they always look so nice when I see them on other (taller) woman. I suppose if I wore heels ALL the time, it might look acceptable, but I certainly can’t walk 40 blocks every day in stilettos.

I’m currently bitter because an email just went out telling us we can leave at 3. This would allow me to get to O-Town at a sane hour, and have plenty of time to bake pies. Then Man-Who-Wants-To-Take-Over-The-World-With-Spreadsheets smarmed over to my desk and informed me that I have to stay till 5.

WhyWhyWhyWhyWhy? On the day before Thanksgiving. When there is NO work to be done. And everyone else in the world has a half-day. I swear, Smarmy really is ruining this company for everyone. And he’s not even MY direct supervisor. He’s a Higher Up who has adopted me as his own personal favorite go-to girl when he wants things done. I should never have proved myself to be so fucking efficient. The traffic is going to be horrendous. I’m thinking I should just take the train to Radburn and make Brenty pick me up, instead of risking the bus to Oakland and a cold walk home.

And randomly: sitting at work this morning, I realize I am wearing this same rose-colored turtleneck when I was having dinner with Brenty and Jon the night before Thanksgiving last year. (Yes, I remember everything.) That was the night I teased Jon that I had found inner-peace, and it wasn’t that far off from the truth, and after dinner we went to his house, and he cooked dessert, and the three of us sprawled out on the couches and watched TV, like we used to do our senior year of high school, and I just felt so happy, both about everything, and being there with them. It’s no secret that I love those boys, and Thanksgiving is as good a time as any to express how grateful I am that I have them in my life.

I’m such a sap, but whatever, I know I have a lot to be grateful for. But that’s a second-annual entry that I’ll save till’ tomorrow. For now I will continue to drink really bad (but free!) coffee, and take notes on Russian history and be bitter about being stuck at my office.

I have a rather long entry to write, for several reasons, but I don’t have time right now, and don’t know when the words will be there.

So Three Things. Real Quick.

It was a fabulous, wonderful weekend marred only by the fact that I am returning to work instead of to school. I’ve been out of school for EIGHT MONTHS people, EIGHT MONTHS. Oh well, I’ll be going back at this time next year.

Laura was here visiting her brother, and though she was crunched for time, I got to see her on Thursday, which was lovely as always. We talked and talked, and went to Strand (I’m addicted), and I led her around like a blind lamb to slaughter. It’s only fair – I feel as if I’m carrying on a tradition, of sorts, as I was led around like a lamb to slaughter last summer. (Sebastian, you’re next!). I forget how much I miss her, even if she has become a liberal hippie. We hugged good-bye in the 14th Street Station and went back and forth like typical girls and made plans for my visit to Saratoga next month.

Friday at work, we were all pretty hostile because we weren’t getting a half day like everyone else on the planet, but it was quiet, and most of us were just wasting time online all day. After work I went out with some co-workers for awhile, came home, and read until Michael called.

I met up with Mike’s friend Iwho lives in SoHo. We drank beer whilst waiting for Michael to arrive and talked politics and books and made fun of Mike (who was an hour and a half late) Mike arrived and I bought a round of shots and we toasted to something, I don’t remember. Anyway, there was much merriment and I didn’t get home until 4 AM.

Saturday, Michael and I had quality time, lunch, sitting in Washington Square Park watching the NYU freshman (which I could write a book on in and of itself, it brought back so many weird memories), good-good conversation, stumbling into a table of political philosophy books, wandering aimlessly. We met up with Xina and her boy at the country music bar on the Upper East Side, and it was a fabulous time.

Sunday was recovering from Saturday’s antics

Monday, I went out to Rockaway Beach, which was lovely. It’s no Jersey Shore, but it’s okay. So I got a sunburn on the quintessential last day of summer, but it was just a really relaxing day, and I read a lot, and thought about the summer in my usual reflective way.

And now I’m back at work, and envious of those starting a new semester. Not because I miss college necessarily, but because I miss academia, and I belong in school. I was flitting around Washington Square Park, declaring “I’m enamored with this area, I want to go to school here!” but I worry about NYU’s Poli-Sci program. It’s…limited, to say the least, and while they do have a strong history department, I don’t really want a history PhD.

I am getting more and more serious about going to school in Texas. I mean, clearly I’m not quite cool enough for Manhattan, so why not go to Texas where every bar plays country music? And meet me a nice Southern Gentlemen. (To quote the favorite professor “Uck, forget about New York boys”) Although Brent was teasing that I am not graceful and refined enough to fit in down there. My take is I’ll be the vulgar Yankee girl. I’ll be a novelty. And I do know how to niche market.

But I Believe I’m Worth Coming Home To

“…and so yeah, I’m an idiot,” I said, punctuating the end of a long exposition of something dumb I did.

“Yes. You are definitely an idiot,” Brent agrees.

“I know! And I have like, the need to keep repeating it, because it’s like, I know I’m an idiot and I don’t want you to think I don’t know I’m an idiot.”

“Well, your problem is that you didn’t see how this would turn out.”

“Actually I did,” I confess. “I was just being consciously naïve.”

“Consciously naïve?”

“Yeah, like Cassandra in “I Capture the Castle.” Actually, last summer was consciously naïve, this was just more like, ‘I know exactly what I’m doing, and I shouldn’t do it, but whatever.”

“You really are an idiot,” Brent says, shaking his head.

“I know!”

“Why do you tell me these things?”

“Because, I know they’re like, shameful, and I can’t NOT tell you, and I know that you will agree with me that it’s shameful.”

“Right. I tell you it’s shameful. And give you more reasons why it’s shameful,” Brent says helpfully. “I bring a fresh perspective to the situation.”

“Exactly!”

My compliments to Jon who was a wonderful host, looked perfectly urbane, and ensured that every one of his guests had the opportunity to get sufficiently sloshed. Although my body is unforgiving of the decision to imbibe various delicious mixed drinks it is lovely to have a friend who goes to such lengths to ensure his friends not only get trashed, but enjoy their liquor. Love you Jon!

Edited to add, that although this is from Fourth of July weekend, I forgot to include it in my recap and so I’m preserving it for my own benefit, as all my journals are going to be stored in my parents attic upon my move out in 12 days

On the way to Target to buy baby presents:

Laura: …and so apparently there are still dancing bears in Romania
Sebastian: Of course there are still dancing bears in Romania!

Upon leaving Target

Laura: Is it okay if we go to the pet store too?
Me: Yeah, we don’t have anything else to do.
Sebastian: Yes, we are three useless college students wasting time.
Me: Hey! I am not a college student.
Sebastian: Sorry, sorry!
Me: I’m a useless, unemployed college graduate.

At the pet store, buying something for a rabbit.

Sebastian: The only thing I know about rabbits is…
Me: What the term ‘fuck like bunnies?”
Sebastian: Yes. I just didn’t want to say it
Me: You’re lucky you have vulgar American friends to say these things for you.

and “ewwww, it tastes like communism”

Typically girly reunion only with out the shrieking. (And we are frothy as opposed to bubbly, but we certainly do not shriek!)

Me: Aw, Sebastian, I miss having you around to open doors for me.
Sebastian: Find yourself a boyfriend with some manners!

(Well that boy we were going to cat fight over now IS all mine!)

In 95 degree weather, Sebastian removes his suit jacket. Notices me, sprawled out on the couch my jeans rolled up, my tank top out of place, and APOLOGIZES because a gentlemen never removes his coat in front of a lady. I sit up and remark on my indecency by aristocratic standards. He quotes something about beauty to God makes it still decent. How euphenistic.

“All right now just pretend that whole last exchange never happened. How do you like this?”

“As a fond memory or a disturbing memory?”

Me: Maybe I have “O” type blood too, because I never get bitten by mosquitoes.
Laura: Or maybe it’s just the blood alcohol level

“I was really paranoid about running over his foot”

The “ha-ha”

Politically correct baby blankets, Rousseau-ian child rearing, “well, i guess he won’t be hearing from us anytime soon”

N: So I have to go to confession for the right time in like, 90 years and I’m going to be like “I don’t remember all my sins, but they were pretty much all the same…””
F: (interrupting) “I hate people. I make fun of people. I am generally hateful towards most people….”
Laura: Wow. Maybe you need to join our misanthropy club.

Lecture series: Coming soon to a campus near you.

Sebastian and I are going to have a television show called “The Monarchist and the Libertarian.”

Sebastian: Your Libertarian principles are rubbing off on me! I think I should have the right to choose to be stupid!

Graduation/Birthday Weekend Recap

-got to Saratoga Thursday night
-was still in my work clothes. Sebastian commented that I looked great, so thus I proved to him that I do indeed “rock” a suit and heels. We went to Scotty’s. We talked and caught up.
-Sebastian and I are both nostalgic, so I’m allowed to be maudlin
-Back to Fain C, conversation with Leah, a little drinking, some writing, 
-picking up honors tassels, visiting a non-gov’t professor, hanging out in the gov’t dept lounge writing job applications
-sitting on a bench with Sebastian, being told by him “Yeah, but you’re more a Portia, then a Miranda.” Laughing hysterically at this comparison – Shakespeare’s Political Wisdom indeed
-Gov’t Dept Reception with the parents: hearing my professors say wonderful things about me, talking with my two favorite professors for over an hour, being told by my favorite professor that I am “glowing”
-talking about grad school programs with gov’t professors who assure me I will get in, and I will get funded, and I will be an attractive PhD candidate
-being owed a beer
-The department chair telling me he cited my paper in a presentation he gave. I AM A FOOTNOTE
-dinner with my parents: they’re proud of me!
-out with Xina for a beer at DA’s – this is becoming tradition
-another drive-by, for old time’s sake, without Escape playing
-hugging Xina good-bye at the end of the night
-babbling until 3 AM on AIM about how awesome everything is
-picking up Xina for graduation, a little music, a little freaking out
-having Matt fix our hoods
-transfer girl picture
-walking at graduation, with Xina, who has been with me since Day One at Skidmore College
-some speech at graduation made me cry, I don’t remember which one now, but it was something about how you will have lows, and you will have pain, and you will have times where nothing goes right, but it is up to you to change that
-wearing my honors tassels, and my pi sigma alpha cord
-walking with all the transfer girls
-pics with all the transfer girls
-saying “3.5” every time someone said “four years” with Xina
-graduating with Kristen, who I have known for EIGHTEEN years
-hugging a seemingly non-huggable professor as we recessed at graduation
-getting a hug from Sebastian: “I’ll conform to your country’s etiquette”
-phone call from favorite professor
-hilarious card from younger, wiser, sibling
-getting to SLEEP
-driving home, relevant lyrics
-birthday dinner with Xina
-writing “You are hot!!!”
 -Birthday drinks with Xina and Michael
-Singing Eve 6
-floor sitting

Thank God I’m going to Saratoga on Saturday. I need to check in with someone who knows me – someone who wants to know me – and remind myself of things I have a tendency to forget when I’m all alone in O-Town.

There are people who never fail to amaze me with their awesomeness.

In other news: “Almost” by Bowling for Soup is my new favorite song. It’s so cute and catchy and unrequited, and so much better than “1985″ , and I am finally reading Wittgenstein. At work. While i’m getting paid.

These Are the Last Words I Have to Say/It’s Always Hard to Say Goodbye/But Now It’s Time to Put This Book Away/And That’s the Story of My Life

Ten Things To Do in Ten Days

1) Drive my favorite aimless drive route

2) Spend the day hanging around the government department doing work

3) Uncommon Grounds for superior cappucino with Di

4) Confessional Drive

5) Parting Glass with the former reading group

6) Scotty’s with the misanthropes

7) Celebrate graduating with Xina with ridiculously expensive dinner

Trip to Dunkin Donuts after midnight

9) Jersey coffee with Kristen

10) Smoke cloves on my back porch, write insanely long essay on “Three-Point-Five-Years”

Take finals, graduate, pack, drive home

And live happily ever after.