I won't be able to go out at all next week because of it, but I'm pretty sure scheduling my haircut for next Thursday just made my day.

The news is fucking depressing.

There's something amazing in watching history unfold.

I got home tonight and sat on my porch for a good 20 minutes before even going inside. It's a perfect summer night with the air all cool and so quiet.

Sometimes, I wish there were someone to sit outside with me at midnight and just talk.

I'm staying up past the time I said I was going to go to bed, but I suddenly got it into my head to continue organizing my bookshelf and as I was putting books onto the shelves, attempting to put together books by the same author or numerical order for series, I was struck by how my books are like me, just a little bit. Or at least say a little bit about who I am.

The top shelf are a bunch of hardbacks, mostly, or taller paperbacks, the nice paperbacks that publishers seem to be so fond of these days. There are my three Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants; I don't own the first because I borrowed my sister's copy, fell in love with it, and proceeded to buy the next three for my collection. (Note to self: Buy first Sisterhood book). Of course, I loved this series. My friendships have meant so much to me. I didn't grow up with a mom and dad who I could talk to about anything; my friends are the ones I confide in.

There's also my copy of Eclipse, which is the third book in Stephenie Meyer's Twilight book series. Same story here: borrowed from sister first copy, fell in love. (Note to self: complete this collection). And of course I loved these books because they're about falling in love and is there anything I'd like more than to fall in love again? I love a good love story.

My copy of The Secret Garden which I inhaled on a two-week trip to Vietnam, a gift from my four cousins before boarding the airplane.

The second shelf just has books. There's my Chicken Soup collection, my Gossip Girl collection (Note to self: Buy prequel to complete collection), just paperbacks. It is a random assortment of books that caught my fancy.

And the third shelf. Oh, the third shelf. The third shelf holds my SVH: Senior Year books. I grew up on Sweet Valley High and all of its offshoots. I loved Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield and the 48 books that make up SVH: Senior Year was the series finale. I own nearly every single copy. A loan gone wrong resulted in the loss of roughly six of the books. (Note to self: Complete this collection with next paycheck). And what does this say about me? It reminds me of the way I grew up on books. If I read a series like this, is it any wonder to you that today I still have a deep and abiding love for Dawson's Creek or Felicity or that despite the terrible storylines, I look forward to watching One Tree Hill on Tuesday nights? These books, or these shows, aren't always the most realistic. I can't tell you how many times one of the Wakefield sisters nearly died. Or how many times they came into contact with royalty. But there was something about it that just so drew me in. There's something I love about getting to follow a character's life, to somehow emotionally connect with a character.

And there are the books that I have yet to add. The new Elements of Style, complete with illustrations, the rest of my Best of American Magazine Writing books, my QuarkExpress textbook, AP stylebook. The books that tell you a little bit about who I chose to become.

Books don't tell you everything about a person; a person couldn't tell you everything about them, probably. But maybe they say more than I ever realized.

Does anyone else feel like a party? In like two weeks?

The thing about college is that it's like it never ends. You're living in a 24 hour/7 day a week job. Yeah, there's a lot about it that's easy, like no class on Friday or having classes that start after noon. But then you throw in everything you have to do. Who cares if your class doesn't start till noon when you should be up at eight so you can put in your internship hours or so you can catch a few hours of reading or so you can have a group meeting for that project due next week? And then you go to class all day and you're tired because you've trekked across campus three times already, only to go home and be confronted with reading, research, papers to write, and another group meeting.

I always think that there's going to be so much time. Like when I was saying how oh I've only got three classes, I've got plenty of time. I was clearly underestimating. I'm just grateful I'm not still putting in three mornings a week at Madden now. I've got a running list in my head right now. Finish test assignment. Write Citizen article. Fucking do some reading already; you've got a midterm in two weeks. Four debate meetings scheduled before next Thursday. Meet with professor to discuss term paper topic. Edit Cat Scan story. Don't forget Molly's birthday. Don't forget to buy Molly a birthday present.

This is what my brain is like. All the time. Before I go to sleep at night, I make a list of what I need to do the next day. When I wake up in the morning, I try to convince myself not to hit the snooze button using my list of things to do. In the shower, I plan which task on the list to hit first, second, third.

I will be so glad to be rid of the endless list-making. I will be so glad to leave work behind me at the end of the day. I will be so glad to have a schedule that is consistent.

But I'm sure I'll miss it all too. I'll miss having a day that lets me avoid after work crowds at the grocery store or a surprise canceled class so I can go to the mall in the middle of a Monday afternoon when no one's there. I'll miss having a day that doesn't include morning rush hour.

But oh, I won't miss staying up till 2 a.m. because there's an assignment to be done and I feel too guilty to sleep.

I know I write a lot about how I miss my friends, but truly, there are some things that aren't quite the same.

And I know you know what I mean.

I didn't realize until this morning how empty my spare rooms are now. The spaces are bigger, but there's a reminder of what used to be there. Baskets in the closet. Left behind empty shelves.

I think that this must be what the short-term future holds. A series of goodbyes, people leaving, the empty spaces left behind, planning visits to other cities. The more I fly, the more I hate it, and yet, probably, the more I'm going to fly.

Sometimes, there are nights where I'm tired of being alone.

But all in all, it was a best kind of day.

Tonight, I found a scorpion on the wall right above the head of my bed.

Tonight, I'm sleeping on the couch.

Usually, I'm pretty okay about scorpions. You smash them, throw their dead bodies in the trash (or flush them down the toilet, if you're Whitney), and life moves on.

However, one above the head of my bed, gives me the urge to strip my bed, wash my sheets, and sleep on the couch.

Awesome.

I'm sure I'll have a few more scorpions to kill this summer.

A public service announcement from one of my parents' clients:

Wednesday is National HIV Testing Day. There will be mobile locations and you can also get tested at the Southern Arizona Aids Foundation.

An appetizer party!

How's that sound?

I'm actually full of ideas. I've been browsing through the Food Network site.

I want to throw a dinner party.

If I throw a dinner party, will you all attend?

Today, an ice cream truck came jingling through my neighborhood.

This is an occurrence that I am unfamiliar with and have been for many years so I was immediately struck with the urge to run outside and chase after the truck with a dollar bill clutched in my fingers.

Sometimes, I am seven years old.

Somehow, I resisted the urge. I might be regretting this decision.

I miss best friends.

As a form of procrastination, one of the things I like to do is read through old journal entries. There are things you forget about and sometimes it's nice to remember. Sometimes it's hard, but sometimes it's nice.

Three years ago, I wrote an entry that may or may not exist in my deadjournal, but is in my livejournal and it was titled for my best friends. It was an entry that was just kind of a reflection on who my best friends were and why and also served as a kind of thank you. It was prompted by an entry I had seen on another LJ, a girl who's no longer on LJ and I don't even really remember how she came to be one of my LJ friends. But reading it...oh, how things have changed. I can hardly wrap my mind around it. The list would be different today. It always hurts a little to know that. Not to discount the new friendships, but it hurts to know what was lost. Even if I know that it's the way it's supposed to be.

This is the entry if you were interested.

Today, I didn't do much. I babysat this morning. I made $30 and spent $60. I meant to do some grad stuff but it looks like I'll be doing it tomorrow. I had dinner with Sarah Michelle. Our last Tuesday night Ka-Hu dinner. This is what it's going to come down to, the last things. I don't do well with endings. They make me sad and they tend to scare me too. I signed some graduation cards tonight. I still have two more to do.


Congratulations.

So I did it.

I put in my internship acceptances. I'll be working with Madden through June, intern at the Citizen for the rest of the summer, and then start a fall internship with Arizona Foothills Tucson.

Seven bars in seven nights only succeeds in getting you sick. But O'Malley's was so much fun on Thursday night. It's something we need to do every week. It just made me feel so much better about my shit week.

I got my car back on Friday with its pretty new bumper.

I have a group meeting in less than an hour. I'm so sick of school. I don't know if I'm going to make it through the rest of this month. I have my doubts.

I'm interviewing tomorrow with the Tucson Citizen. Thursday with Arizona Foothills Tucson Magazine. Here's to a fall internship.

I'm going to leave you now with an image of a plant in my front yard. I don't know what type of plant it is, but it is what Sarah Michelle calls the most phallic looking plant she has ever seen.