I hate you, school. I love you - but I hate you. If we were dating, you would totally be an abusive boyfriend.
I bet I would still bake you cookies, though.
Mostly, I've gotten beyond caring. "Oh? I have two huge papers due next week and another gigantic one looming on the horizon? Oh? I have finals? Oh? Really? Hm. Funny." That's what my brain is saying.
My brain is also applauding the choice to buy this very nice sandalwood-scented candle.
What is there to say? What is there to say beyond: I make a lot of mix cds these days, it seems. This is further proof that my college experience keeps stumbling into being 8th grade but with boobs and booze and the potential for growth and self-actualization.
Or, you know....something.
Last night a group of us sat in IHOP at 4am after the Wash Swan Songs and Inductions. We'd waved in the new, and bid goodbye to the old. As the fourth years made their speeches I was overwhelmed with two feelings: First "I've failed you," second "you cannot, cannot, cannot leave."
Maybe neither of those are right. Maybe I've tried my hardest. Maybe I'm just human and can't be the one who takes care of everyone and is perfectly kind and unbiased all the time. Maybe people are allowed to grow up and leave.
Of course those "maybe"s are true. But, are they true?
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