Murphy and Me XXXXIV

[College. 'Nough said.]

Dinner Friday (12/11)
From: HOLBURN, COLBY
To: STARRET, DEVAN; MACRILEY, MURPHY; MACRILEY, WILLIAM; KARIZSLOWSKI, OLIVIA; CORNISH, JOSEPHINE; FREISLOW, CARA; MEYER-ROBERTS, ALEXANDRA
December 7, 2009 10:30 AM

Hi,
In celebration of a successful sophomore fall, I thought we could have dinner at my house - something easy, like pasta - and just hang out.
Of course if you have other plans, that's cool, but it was really fun to watch movies with you guys - and girls - but taking you all out to Parker's might break the bank, but we could, if you want to. But maybe movie at my house as Ollie's room is a small and Murph and Dev's isn't much bigger.
So - dinner at my house or out somewhere? And the movie or whatever we're doing after. Or you could all eat and then abandon me, too.
I'm okay with whatever, as Todd and Charlie - my housemates - are going downtown that night.
Just let me know.
-Colby

Amazing. Colby had the ability to ramble in an email.

RE: Dinner Friday (12/11)
From: KARIZSLOWSKI, OLIVIA
To: HOLBURN, COLBY; STARRETT, DEVAN; MACRILEY, MURPHY; MACRILEY, WILLIAM; CORNISH, JOSEPHINE; FREISLOW, CARA; MEYER-ROBERTS, ALEXANDRA
December 7, 2009 11:15 AM

Hey,
I think all of us cooking would be fun. Something like lasagna maybe?
Ollie Karizslowski
WS '12



RE: Dinner Friday (12/11)
From: MACRILEY, MURPHY
To: KARIZSLOWSKI, OLIVIA; HOLBURN, COLBY; STARRETT, DEVAN; MACRILEY, WILLIAM; CORNISH, JOSEPHINE; FREISLOW, CARA; MEYER-ROBERTS, ALEXDRA
December 7, 2009 11:20 AM

Colb,
Is this what you were typin' in the library? I thought it was your English paper.
Lasagna sounds good. Bread too?
Murphy R. MacRiley
Hobart 2012



RE: Dinner Friday (12/11)
From: MACRILEY, WILLIAM
To: MACRILEY, MURPHY; KARIZSLOWSKI, OLIVIA; HOLBURN, COLBY; STARRETT, DEVAN; CORNISH, JOSEPHINE; FREISLOW, CARA; MEYER-ROBERTS, ALEXANDRA
December 7, 2009 11:22 AM

My brother the carb junkie.
Dev - can you bring apples to apples?
-Liam



RE: Dinner Friday (12/11)
From: MEYER-ROBERTS, ALEXANDRA
To: MACRILEY, WILLIAM; MACRILEY, MURPHY; KARIZSLOWSKI, OLIVIA; HOLBURN, COLBY; STARRETT, DEVAN; CORNISH, JOSEPHINE; FREISLOW, CARA
December 7, 2009 11:25 AM

I see everybody knows how to use Reply All. Lasagna, bread, salad. Golden.
-Sasha



RE: Dinner Friday (12/11)
From: HOLBURN, COLBY
To: MEYER-ROBERTS, ALEXANDRA; MACRILEY, WILLIAM; MACRILEY, MURPHY; KARIZSLOWSKI, OLIVIA; STARRETT, DEVAN; CORNISH, JOSEPHINE; FREISLOW, CARA
December 7, 2009 11:37 AM

How the hell do you get Sasha from Alexandra?
-Colby



RE: Dinner Friday (12/11)
From: MEYER-ROBERTS, ALEXANDRA
To: HOLBURN, COLBY; MACRILEY, WILLIAM; MACRILEY, MURPHY; KARIZSLOWSKI, OLIVIA; STARRETT, DEVAN; CORNISH, JOSEPHINE; FREISLOW, CARA
December 7, 2009 11:39 AM

Magic.
Sasha



RE: Dinner Friday (12/11)
From: HOLBURN, COLBY
To: MEYER-ROBERTS, ALEXANDRA; MACRILEY, WILLIAM; MACRILEY, MURPHY; KARIZSLOWSKI, OLIVIA; STARRETT, DEVAN; CORNISH, JOSEPHINE; FREISLOW, CARA
December 7, 2009 11:50 AM

Hi again
Murph just reminded me - shindig starts at 5:30 (to start cooking). Tunes will be provided.
See you all then.
-Colby
P.S. - Here's how to get to my house - 4th house on the left on Pulteney Street, other side of 5&20



Dinner at Colby's
From: STARRETT, DEVAN
To: MACRILEY, MURPHY; MACRILEY, WILLIAM; KARIZSLOWSKI, OLIVIA; CORNISH, JOSEPHINE; FREISLOW, CARA; MEYER-ROBERTS, ALEXANDRA
December 9, 2009 12:24 PM

Hey guys,
If you're coming to dinner, maybe bring a few bucks to chip in? Colb's gone grocery shopping out of pocket.
See you Friday!
-Dev



RE: Dinner at Colby's
From: KARIZSLOWSKI, OLIVIA
To: STARRETT, DEVAN; MACRILEY, MURPHY; MACRILEY, WILLIAM; CORNISH, JOSEPHINE; FREISLOW, CARA; MEYER-ROBERTS, ALEXANDRA
December 9, 2009 12:45 PM

Dev,
Of course.
Ollie Karizslowski
WS '12



RE: Dinner at Colby's
From: MACRILEY, WILLIAM
To: KARIZSLOWSKI, OLIVIA; STARRETT, DEVAN; MACRILEY, MURPHY; CORNISH, JOSEPHINE; FREISLOW, CARA; MEYER-ROBERTS, ALEXANDRA
December 9, 2009 12:55 PM

Devan,
No shit.
-Liam and Murph

By the time Friday hit three classes was almost three too many. Finally it was hallelujah time. First thing I did to celebrate was take a beautiful, nearly two hour nap. Made since, since yesterday's bedtime was actually two-thirty this morning.

Yeah. Nap time.

Once awake it was just glorious to lie there staring at the ceiling with Edgar looped under one arm. The ambient noise from the hallway filtered through the closed door. It was no only peaceful but relaxing, too. Can't remember the last time I was able to do this.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Yeah?" The door, hopefully, was open. No way in hell was I getting out of bed.

Murph's head and shoulders appeared around the now open door. "Did I wake you up?"

"Nope." Rolled over to curl on my side. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Comin' to see you." He came all the way in, the door shutting behind him. "You sure I didn't wake you up?"

"I'm sure." I scooted to put my back against the wall. "You don' anything at the moment?"

"That sounds like an invitation."

"You betcha." My boyfriend was no dummy.

Murph left his shoes by the closet and dropped his keys and wallet on the desk by my laptop before climbing into bed in jeans and a layered button down. He got settled, head on my pillow, and blinked.

"I was napping" Our legs tangled. "And then woke up and was just lying here." Shrugged. "It's warm."

He moved closer, resting a large hand on my side. "It's nice."

"Do you mind if Jo walks with us to Colby's?"

"Not at all." He inched a bit closer, tucking one leg between mine. Forgot how big his thighs were. "Liam's coming here after his last class."

"Sasha and Cara are meeting us at the bottom of St. Claire Street." Screw this shit - I tucked myself against Murph, plastering us together from chest to toes with his belt buckle digging into my hip. "Will you move your belt buckle?"

"Yeah, no problem." He reached between us, yanking on his belt, knuckles dragging against my belly. That odd feeling was back, a fluttering in my gut that scared me. That same arm came up, working under my head and the pillow. The other came around my side, sliding under my borrowed flannel shirt to splay open in the dip at the end of my spine.

Tit for tat, my own hand snuck under his button down to rest between his layers, halfway to his heart. He shifted minutely. Away from me.

"Murphy?"

He buried his face in my hair.

"If it hurts..."

"It doesn't hurt. It's just..." He readjusted us to better look me in the eye. My hand stayed where it was. Unless he got very uncomfortable, that is. I wasn't going to push this, though it was getting more obvious what the cause of his insecurity was.

"Your scars?" I said softly.

It was emergency surgery. It was bound to be messy. My own scars were fairly tiny and straight forward. Murph's probably not so much.

"Yes." He paused. "I'm a little sliced and diced down...there...." Color filled his cheeks.

I picked up what he was trying to get out, as that's where mine were. "Between your belly button and your..."

"Yeah." He was a shade of red only seen in a twenty-four count box of crayons. "They're huge."

"You had emergency surgery." My fingers found the dip in his shirt belonging to his belly button. "It was bound to be messy."

He flinched.

"Sorry," I muttered. "Have you seen the scar on my knee?"

"Which knee?"

"Left." The hand on my back ghosted down to the joint in question and I had to work very hard to stay very still as the area was rather ticklish. "Do you know how I got that?"

"No."

"I was in first grade and riding the bus. Not sitting up in the seat in the back and the driver stopped suddenly. The heater sliced through my leggings and into my knee. Started screaming. I couldn't stand the idea of stitches so they put a giant band aid on and sent me home." I leaned back to see him a little better. "Never had stitches until the dissolving ones they put in me both inside and out."

His hand slid up my leg to cup my thigh. Considering I was using compression shorts as pajamas, there was a lot of bare skin under his palm.

"Whe - When they're less red and raised," he said.

"Whenever you're ready, Murphy." And that was all there was to it. He'd be ready when he was ready. And he'd get the space he needed, too.

With some pulling, poking, and prodding, we found one of our most comfortable positions: Murph with his head tucked under my chin, one arm curled around my torso - which kept most of his weight cleverly on the mattress and not all on me - and me with a leg on either side of him, the fingers of one hand through his belt loop and the other still between his shirts.

Comfortable. Very comfortable.

"You're too good to me, you know that, right?" he murmured against my throat.

"Just returning the sentiment." That didn't sound quite right. "More than that, you know. Right?"

"I know."

We stayed like that for almost an hour, talking casually and occasionally stroking patches of skin - within reason - and generally just...There's not really any good way to describe it other than we were still getting to know each other and doing a fine job of it so far. Murph and I didn't know everything about each other - which we shouldn't, not this soon - and there was the notion we wouldn't know everything. My parents have been married for thirty-four years and they're still learning about each other in some ways.

Murph and I had only been doing this boyfriend-girlfriend thing for going on four months. Definitely not long enough to know everything about my partner.

It was nice, trading memories with Murph. Sharing bits of childhood.

Around quarter to five the room started to get nighttime dark and we separated, mostly because I needed to change into actual clothes. Jeans, my favorite red-striped collared shirt with a long-sleeved tee under it, and Timberland boots, as it hadn't stopped snowing all week. Mis-matched outwear on and then it was out the door. Jo sat in the beaten armchair; Murph leaned against the table.

We had to collect Dev and Liam from the third floor fishbowl, wait while Murph got his coat, and then went thudding down the stairs. It was a dark, snowy walk to St. Claire and Pulteney. Sasha and Cara were waiting by the trolley stop.

"Hey." Sasha had her arm looped through Cara's and we were a rather motley group walking down the street.

"Hey."

Murph tangled his gloved fingers with mine, tucking them into his left coat pocket. As it didn't make walking awkward - and kept my hand warm - it was fine by me.

"I am so glad to be done," Dev said. "No more freakin' spreadsheets." He nudged Liam. "Until when? Thursday?"

"Wednesday morning." Liam shrugged. "I'm not worrying about it until Tuesday."

"That's the spirit," Sasha remarked.

We chuckled all the way down to five and twenty. A snowplow went through. The streetlights were a little more spotty on this block, but we were only going four houses down. The tree out front was oddly familiar from mine and Murph's first ER trip when he'd been hit over the head with a picture frame. The seven of us crowded up on Colby's small porch and rang the doorbell multiple times like little kids.

Before Liam turned the knob and we barged in like hooligans, at any rate.

Colby's head appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Hey."

Coats went on the peg, shoes on the mat, and we traipsed into the kitchen. Boxes of pasta, jars of sauce, and what looked like two pounds of mozzarella sat ready and waiting.

"You can eat this, right?" Colby asked, handing me a box.

"Yup. You did good."

His eyebrows hit his hairline. "I'd hold off on that until after we actually eat."

"You got a backup plan?" Dev asked.

"Yeah, it's called ordering pizza." Colby began rummaging for appropriate pots and pans. With some direction as to where things might be, we split into teams - which wound up being Hobart on one side of the kitchen and William Smith on the other - and began to make a sort of assembly line. Colby, Dev, and the twins took over the stove while we found something to actually bake the stuff in.

Jo held up a nine-by-thirteen. "You think?"

Sasha and I looked at each other.

"It should." Sasha glanced at Cara. "Cara?"

Cara gave us all a how the hell would I know? look and, in the end, we ran with it.

Someone had put Murph in charge of getting the cooked noodles out of the water, and he did a decent job - until about halfway through none of them came out in one piece.

Two stuffed pans later and there were still some doubts. Namely whether it was going to overflow. We put them in the oven anyway - at the same time - and cleaned up our prep mess before retreating to the living room, Liam setting a timer on his phone. Dev dug out a pack of regular cards and we settled in for a rather raucous game of bullshit.

Colby had no poker face. Jo had a keen sense for bullshit, and Dev and I had at least half the deck between us. Murph was down to three cards, Liam only one, and Cara laid down what she had left with a smug, "Two fives."

"Bullshit," Sasha, Jo, and Colby said together. Colby turned over the cards in question and winced.

Liam rubbed at his eyes, sniffing. "It smells like smoke."

Cards went everywhere; Colby nearly ran his head into the wall trying to get to his feet and the kitchen at the same time; the smoke alarm went off with a banshee-like peal, and nobody really moved until Colby yelled for someone to get the fire extinguisher. We couldn't move fast enough then. Liam was the first into the kitchen, grabbing said fire extinguisher from where it hung on the wall and dear Lord, those were actual flames. Lasagna-induced flames.

I threw the door to the back porch open as well as the window over the sink, hoping to move some of the smoke out and still marveling over the fact Liam knew what he was doing.

Sasha, Cara, and Jo crowded in the doorway, a stiff December breeze blowing from one end of the house to the other.

Colby took the fire extinguisher from Liam and leaved heavily against the counter.

"So," Dev said as Liam's alarm tone - the Star Wars theme - played for the timer. "Mark's or Dominoes?"


"Liam," Sasha asked, "where did you learn to use a fire extinguisher?"

The twin in question paused, slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. We'd managed to clean up the disaster in the kitchen - including scrubbing the inside of the oven as much as possible - and now sat in the living room, pizza boxes on the coffee table.

It was an innocent question, to be honest, one most of us were probably curious about.

"Our Da taught us," Liam said, setting his pizza slice back on his plate. "When Murph and I were in middle school, we'd go to Da's studio after school. The forge is always lit there, for the glass, and Da wanted to make sure in case somethin' happened we knew how to use the fire extinguisher." He took a bite of pizza, finally.

"So one night before Ma got home, Da took us out to the backyard with one of the studio's fire extinguishers," Murph said, picking up where his brother left off. "And started a small fire there for us to get practice."

"How old were you?" Jo asked.

Murph had to think about that for a second. "Ten. I think."

It was my turn for a question, this time for Colby. "Why is there a fire extinguisher in your kitchen?"

Colby swapped one of the empty pizza boxes for the dessert pizza, ripping open one of the vanilla icing tubes and handing it to Jo.

"Well," he said, "our landlord used to live here. And ex-wife number three used to like to bake. After he lost the second oven, he invested in a fire extinguisher."

"When did your landlord tell you this?" Cara was appropriately skeptical.

"We have him over for dinner a couple times a month." Colby shrugged. "He wonders why he hasn't gotten notification from the police and stops by to make sure we're still breathing. Compared to other houses, we don't cause much trouble."

"Except for that one time," Dev put in; Murph blushed.

Colby shot his friend and teammate a glare. "Except for that."

"What happened?" Cara and Jo asked almost in unison.

"Dev tried to be a gentleman and Murph took a picture frame to the back of the head," Liam deadpanned, giving both Devan and his twin a stink-eye El would be proud of.

"Anyway," I said, snagging a piece of dessert pizza as it went by and accepting the icing from Murph. "Which final are you dreading?"

"Sociology, oddly enough," Dev said.

"Economics," Liam reached for Dev's backpack, presumably to grab Apples to Apples.

"Shakespeare Comedies," from Sasha.

"Chem," was Jo.

"Calculus." Murph turned pink as we all stared.

"Calc?" No idea my boyfriend had been taking math. "Goal?"

"Yup." He looked at Colby. "Colb?"

"Poly Sci."

"Physics." That was me.

Liam broke open Apples to Apples and started handing out cards. First green card was comfortable. My opening hand sucked and I tossed a card purely for the fact it was required of me.

Liam was equally impressed by the selected answers. "Canada? The Gulf War? Hot Lava? Big Foot?" He glanced around the circle. "Did any of you even read the description on the card?"

Cara shrugged. "Who says we read?"

Jo nudged my side. "When was the last time you read your physics textbook?"

"Yesterday night," I said immediately, not looking up.

"More than the homework problems pages," she clarified.

Damn it. "September." No ashamed. Not at all.

We all got a good chuckle out of that. I'm not entirely sure how long we played cards, generally shot the shit, and decompressed from a semester that had never seemed to end, but the next time check anybody did revealed it was half past ten.

That and the return of a slightly tipsy Todd and Charlie - Colby's housemates - had us pulling on coats. Murph stayed to help clean up, and I naturally lingered, too, putting pizza boxes in the trash. Which is when, in the process of trying to leave the kitchen in the same condition we'd found it, we discovered the bags of lettuce mix originally bought for salad. Colby sighed, grumbling about making space in the fridge.

"Dude," Todd said, hanging onto the kitchen door frame like it was the only thing holding him up, "should we get Joe's Hots delivery or walk?" He looked at me, then looked me up and down. Awkward as hell, considering Murph was in the room. "Hi."

"Hi," I said quietly, not entirely sure what to do.

Murph must have the ears of a damn bat, and he made sure to take the long way to the fridge, calmly not breaking eye contact - no glaring - to slide his hand along from hip to hip across my belly and press a kiss to my cheek, bag of lettuce in his other hand.

Todd promptly disappeared into the living room, calling out, "Chuckie! We're walkin'! Let's go!"

Murph cast one more glance at the door and handed the lettuce to a slightly bewildered Colby.

"Did I miss something?" he asked, closing the fridge.

I looked at Murph, who looked at me, and I shrugged as Murph said, calm as ever, "Nope."

Colby wisely left it at that.

It was still snowing when Murph and I left the house and started the walk back toward Campus. The world had a snow silence to it - everything blanketed. Muffled. There weren't any cars out. Not a whole lot - if any, and I couldn't hear them - college kids either.

Five and twenty was untouched. Covered in a layer of snow - about four inches, from the feel - it was deserted. Not even a snowplow had been through recently.

We didn't wait for the walk sign. In the middle of the four-lane, Murph spun me around gently.

"Hold up," he said, and we stood there alone in the middle of the silent winter night approximately over the yellow center line.

Maybe I should have felt it. But it's not like the world shifted. Or maybe it did. There was this look in his eye, the same look he'd worn in the Pub back in September.

His bare hands framed my face as he leaned down. "I love you," he ghosted over my lips, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. The words seemed to echo oddly. I huffed out a small laugh with a jumble of emotions behind it.

He chuckled, grinning. "I love you." The kiss was short and sweet, almost chaste. He took a deep breath, hands still framing my face.

If time hadn't seemed to stop before now it slowed considerably in this moment. His thumbs brushed over my cheekbones. "Ta me chomh mor sin i ngra leat," he said, slowly and carefully. "I love you so much."

My only response was to gently take his hands in mine, extend onto my toes to be cheek to cheek with him, and gleefully whisper, "Every day I love you more and more."

The V-Word

To breaking out of your comfort zone - or what little of it you have left after being a theater minor - and doing something different in the hopes of spreading the word to end the violence against women and girls around the world.

For more information, click the link below to learn about Eve Ensler, V-Day, and other information.
The Vagina Monologues.

300 Heart-Shaped Sugar Cookies

A girl can wish, can't she? Apparently the six dozen my dad made for the house and delivered yesterday while they took my car to get it an inspection wasn't enough for the ravenous horde - and I say that with all the love in my heart - I live with. Considering these are also the people who ate their way through 74 homemade meatballs in one meal, I'm really not surprised.

I've had a fairly long day, including a rather awkwardly placed nap (which I really needed), and I've done some thinking. Normally Valentine's Day is a day when I feel more keenly the fact that I don't have a significant other. That I haven't had a date in three, almost four years. A day when it hurts just a little bit more to see girls wandering around with bouquets of flowers or boxes of chocolate-covered strawberries. The idea that they have someone for them in that capacity. And let's be clear, it's not just hetero couples. For those who have someone in that specific capacity, it's hard not to hit this particular day and feel a little left out.

The trick is to say to yourself it's only another day. All day. It's just Tuesday, February 14. Any other day.

There was class this morning. Then roughly two hours spent working on math disguised as chemistry. Looking back on that, my professors are the greatest. Especially for this independent study. They didn't have to take the time - we more or less worked through "lunch" though there was a package of Oreos out in the hallway to snack on - to work through this particular problem, and then work on another to make sure I really understood it, but they did. For that, the faculty in the Chemistry department are incredible.

And playing with little GC machines that used ambient air as the mobile phase? So totally cool. And yes, I will explain that further on down the road at some point, but the gist of it is that it was really cool science and a giant leap away from the monstrosity we had been using last semester.

Bottom line is that when you treat a day you might have problems with like any other day of the year, it gets more bearable. You don't necessarily remember what you think you're missing out on, but you realize more of what you can do. That it's possible to be an independent young lady (in my case) who's had to shuffle and reshuffle priorities and is still, sometimes, shuffling the deck again to find the perfect combination. Only it's probably not going to be perfect; merely workable. And then you work it.

That was for the "Heart-Shaped Sugar Cookies" part of the title. Here's the really fun part for today.

This is the 300th post for the Wandering Sagittarius.

I have this ridiculous smile on my face. I don't know why, but I have this smile on my face that won't seem to go away with the fact that I'm typing the 300th post in a blog that's not-quite three years old yet. That I have somehow managed to find enough in the life of an undergrad to write about for 300 posts. It's a little mind-blowing.

And thank you - a big thank you - to all of my 43 followers. Thank you, essentially, for listening. Ups, downs, those odd movements sideways. Thank you for hearing it all.

On a final note, while I raise my coffee cup to you wonderful people, happy 300th. Here's to looking forward to many, many more.

Fantastic

This is going to sound a little odd, but one of my favorite bands is The Barenaked Ladies. I've been listening to them since I was in late middle school, early high school, and I have both their greatest hits album and their earlier album, Stunt. This is one of my favorite songs from that album, and I found a version of it where they're playing it in somebody's bathroom. Two men. A guitar. In a bathroom.

So. Some Fantastic (Ivory and Ivory)

Crooked Orbit

While I grab the gumption to go back to wrestling with analytical chemistry - which is kicking my ass, by the way, thought you should know - and waiting for my coffee brewed this morning twenty minutes after I decided I was sleeping for another hour to reheat, I figured I should say something fairly worthwhile.

For those waiting on Murphy and Me updates, I'm working on it, but my current schedule doesn't really allow for a lot of time to do anything other than homework. I broke it down the other day, more or less, into what I think I do and wound up with:

Time Usage (Outside of Class and Lab)
95% - Homework
5% - Sleeping, Eating, Soccer, Writing, Community Service, Teaching Placement, and Relaxing

Go figure. Anyway, whatever this might look like on the outside, it's been keeping me much more calm and everything is going great so far. That's on the academic front.

On the Weight Watcher's front, some days it feels like it's working a little more than others. Predictably, I have my good weeks and my bad weeks, but none so bad as to make more than one trip to Cold Stone during the week. That is positively a thing of the past. I'm not entirely sure how accurate my housemate's WW scale is, and as I'm making at trip home this weekend for a little bit, I'll check in on the one in our home bathroom to see if there's been some progress.

Oh, before I forget - and how could I, considering they were moving furniture at lovely times of the day yesterday while moving in (which is expected) - we have 3 new housemates. They're men. No idea who they are, but I have run into one of two of them as they were on their way from the bathroom to the stairs to the third floor, though I don't think any of us have actually met them. We think they play a sport, but as my one housemate didn't see them during hockey warm-ups last night, we're not actually sure which sport they play.

Wandering into the bathroom in the morning just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

The email from our house manager said they would only be staying 1-2 weeks. Knowing our Residential Education system, they're probably going to be here for the rest of the semester, which is just fine with all of us. It's actually feels good to have a full house, believe it or not.

Last but not least, I'm approaching 300 posts. I'm a little excited about that, having been around long enough to have 300 posts. So, because of that - and because I have a love of this particular song in general - I'll leave you with the song I have stuck in my head nine times out of ten.

Instructions Included?

Sometimes I wonder if there's a right way and a wrong way to do this whole college thing. Which is weird, because for a lot of stuff I could give three shits about whether or not I'm playing by the rules.

Let's back up because that opening couple of sentences wasn't entirely....coherent.

College is about academics. Earn a degree in something practical (hopefully) and have some fun along the way. And that's great until your GPA winds up in the toilet from the worst semester of your life and you're left with, well, a really obvious direction and some choices that don't really feel like choices. Well, I've picked a direction, made a plan, and have support for this Plan. And yes, it deserves a capital letter because not only is it that important, I don't want it to get confused with other, lesser plans that happen day to day. This is a sort of life Plan we're talkin' about.

Anyway. So I have a direction and I have a plan, and so far, technically speaking, I've been executing this plan very well. I have yet to procrastinate on work. I've done all my reading for all my classes, and homework and everything else has been handed in one time. This Wednesday will mark three full weeks into the semester, and I think this is the best shape that I've ever been in and I really, really want to keep it going. I know I can keep it going which has become the crucial difference between this semester and others.

It's not a problem to be that focused during the week. Really, it's not. But once I hit Friday and Saturday, that little part of my brain, that part we don't necessarily like to listen to - or the part that shouts at us relentlessly - can't help but start to eke out, Are you sure you're doing this right?

Granted, I'm not big on going out and partying - I never have been, truthfully - but as I look at my housemates spending time getting ready (and all that encompasses), my offer to drive them turns into something halfway between being nice and concerned, and wanting to feel involved.

I haven't gone out one weekend this semester. I'm a senior. Is there something wrong with that picture?

The overwhelming part of me wants absolutely no cause or consideration for a repeat of last semester and last semester's GPA. None at all. It wasn't a happy time. Considering most everyone I talk to comments on how much more relaxed I am, I'll take it that everybody else could see just how destructive the last four months of 2011 were. And I had to just ride it out, and hope to come out on top. But now, with this fresh start - which it has been - I'm more or less content with what I'm doing and what I've currently got.

Stay in on weekends. Stay in on nights when there's no soccer. Do homework during free time in afternoons. Go to bed before midnight during week.

All of the above is working. Life is working. College is working.

But am I missing something quintessential to the college life? I'm a senior. Technically I'll still be a senior next year, but shouldn't there be something more to what's going on? Theoretically this is the last hoorah. But it's not, really. Not for me. And maybe that's what's making the difference. I don't really know, which is, honestly, why I'm asking you people.

It's not so much as a case of the grass being greener, but just wondering, sitting here on a Sunday night (early Monday morning, now), if there's something I'm missing.

A Cool Kid Friday Night

It's been a long week. Granted, I don't have class on Mondays, but I haven't heard from the teacher I'm supposed to be in with - I'm debating literally just showing up on Monday because I don't want to continue screwing around with this - and Wednesday's lab was spent making "Bouncing Putty" (Silly Putty, really), but in general, it's been a really long week. Wednesday was the day I stayed up the latest I've stayed up this entire semester - one in the morning - and then had a quick turn around to be in class at 8:45 the next morning with the entire afternoon spent at our Professor's house for food chem.

It's just been a long week.

The constant reminders coming through email and campus mail, along with the signs around campus for the Senior Event: Cap and Gown Measurements got a little difficult to handle. It was one of those days where it automatically gets filed under difficult because, you'd think with the technology we have today it would be feasible for them to get me off that email list. Hell, throw me onto the juniors list in the emails. I'm still a senior by the virtue of the amount of credits I have, but when you're not graduating, it hurts some deep part of you that doesn't quite have a handle on the fact that you're waiting a year.

I'm not entirely sure I'm making sense right now. I'm tired. It's 11:23, and I'm more than ready to crawl into bed. I hesitate to do that, though, because I told some of my friends I would DD for them. So I dropped them off a few houses down from one of the fraternity's and told them to call me when they were ready to be picked up. I didn't want to drink tonight, and I wanted them to be safe - someone was attacked earlier this week - and I figured I would just drive them rather than have them walking back this late.

Not that it's technically late. It's actually probably rather early.

Normal has become a sort of relative thing. My new normal is keeping track of my Weight Watcher's points, doing homework in nearly all of my free time so I can go to soccer, and then getting at least seven hours of sleep at night. So far, two and a half weeks into the semester, the plan is still going strong. The more you believe you can do something, the better you feel about actually accomplishing it.

And at the end of this week, while I'm really tired, I feel pretty damn good.