I Turned My Calendar Today

Hey, wait a sec, you say. (Unless you're like Jake, and are busy mocking me for being a dork and having a calendar on my wall.) Unless I'm mistaken, it's Saturday night, May 3rd or 4th, depending on how you count. Why exactly are you...

But let me interrupt this line of thinking and direct you back to the header up there, which says not that today is May Day, but merely that I turned my calendar today. And I'm proud of it. I mean, it takes effort, remembering that I have a calendar, noting that the month has changed, actually turning the page. The last one was the most difficult, this time... I'm having noticeably silly symbolism issues with the passage of time, lately. Debating whether or not to wear a watch, putting off buying plane tickets until the very last minute, refusing to turn the calendar.

Having turned it, there's not much to see. Ten days until I go home (marked in blue, "Noon Move-Out"), nine days until graduation (In cyan pentel pen, reminding me to get up in time to hear Seamus Heaney speak, and to determine whether Jake looks cute, dorky, or both in a cap & gown), four days until my orgo exam (12:30PM, also in cyan), after which I need to move most of my stuff into Jim's apartment. A new moon on the sixteenth. I haven't a clue what I'll be doing the night of the sixteenth, not a clue.

From next door, Cher's electronically modified voice is blaring through the cinderblocks. Ah, Quincy. I will not miss you.

Were it not for missing life here, honestly, I'd even be looking forward to going home. For once, I'm actually going to have a car to myself, and a decent paying (if boring) job, and last I talked to Dad, he mentioned (without my prompting) that he and Mom had been talking about being, well, better about the fact that I'm halfway through college, and have been living in Atlanta essentially on my own for almost two years now. And that they should probably have to adjust to my coming, going, and keeping to myself as I please. It's not the comings and goings that worry me, so much, but the last one, the privacy bit. It's not that my privacy isn't respected, at home... I can leave things in my room, and no one (except possibly my brother; I can't gauge him at all these days) is going to go snooping though my stuff. But it's the assumed family togetherness that has the potential to rub the wrong way. I will hope, though it's quite unlikely, that they're beginning to become aware of this. But if not... well, I do have my own car now. Anybody up for that trip to Centralia?