Today I received my very first official wedding invitation. I know a few people my age who are married and/or have a kid, and even more who are engaged. But this is my first official wedding invitation. The kids are Mormon, so it doesn't quite count (marrying young is, in pretty much every way, encouraged) - but all the same, it's just so incredible.

I feel old, like I'm "reaching that age" when everyone you know starts getting married and having kids. At the other end of that spectrum, though, I feel so young because I can't even imagine being married, getting married, or even thinking about getting married right now. I think that even if I was involved with someone whom, perhaps, I felt as though I could spend the rest of my life with...well, I've got the rest of my life. I know that I could have a freak accident and die tomorrow or next year or ten years from now, but I don't feel like that possibility is some kind of 'justification' for hurrying into a marriage. If I am already with someone, I don't think it's such a bad idea to spend some time growing with and flexing the relationship with that person before making it a lawful union.

Then again, I'm all for sex before (and during, w00t!) marriage. Waiting for years to get to the good stuff would probably change my opinion on the amount of time to wait before marrying.

So on Saturday, over coffee, I told my dad about my grand scheme for dropping out of school, working, going to Europe, working, and then plummeting myself into debt by moving to Oregon and going to culinary school.

He didn't threaten to disown me and didn't kick me out of the house, or even fly into a cursing rage in public - or private.

All of my best possible expectations were exceeded.

Maybe this will actually work.

*EDIT*

I recently spoke with my adviser about where I am in my degree program, and as it turns out I'm much further along that I thought. If I bust my balls, I could finish in a year (2 semesters) and actually get out in the 4 years you're "supposed" to be in college. If I wanted to take it just a little easier, I could finish in a year and a half (3 semesters). I'm definitely down to kick my own ass if it means that slow walk down to a piece of paper in just a year. So, no dropping out for me.

My soul burns with a pure desire for the new MacBook Air.

Not to mention a 160 GB iPod to replace my first-generation video iPod that recently drowned in my purse. Shit, I'd be happy with the 80 GB version; I just need some goddamned music for driving in the car and working out at the gym.

I guess I also need a sugar daddy.

I went to the bathroom in between classes today, and what should I spot in the mirror whilst washing my hands?

Why...could it be? Is it a trick of the light or is it really...

A WHITE HAIR.

Upon plucking the hair and examining it, I determined that it was, in fact, an old lady hair.

I can't even legally consume alcohol in these united states of America, yet there it was, plain as day. A gray hair.

My life has been way too fucking stressful lately. I am going out of my mind.

I've got it into my head that I want to go to Europe.

This is perfect timing, naturally - right after I'm laid off and right after my Nalgene leaked water all up ins my iPod and ruined it. In a twenty minute span. Yeah.

Anyway. Everyone goes; it's a cliché rite of passage, I know. But I don't care. I want to backpack through Europe, and I have to do it in the next two years.

I figure I have approximately two more years left of skating by on my a) free rent with Daddy and b) overall immaturity and lack of 'real' responsibility.

Ideally, this would happen next (2009) fall. It could be 2010, though, and I'd be OK with it. I feel like it needs to happen either right before or right after I graduate from UAS (of course, who knows when that will actually happen...) and before I have to make The Next Big Commitment.

I'd love to go with The Girls, I want to go with The Girls; all I know is, I have to go. Even if it's alone.

Holy crap, I'm making myself neurotic.

Auuuuuuuuugh.

I'm back, and it's probably the best feeling I could possibly hope for in the world right now.

My mom showed up for Festive Family Fun in the Keys, and now it's just a big, awkward, angry, depressing mess. I am really not in the holiday spirit, despite my best efforts to just remain positive. I'm not having much luck.

It is unbelievably difficult to so much as be in her presence, much less even talk to her. Not even converse with her; even saying "Hello" can be an potentially explosive move. She absolutely and completely refuses to acknowledge the fact that she is experiencing some form of a mental breakdown. Who knows what the hell is really wrong with her, since she won't seek any form of help whatsoever since she continues to deny any problems whatsoever.

She will be speaking or behaving in a way that is irrational, paranoid, selfish, aloof, and inexplicable, then for a moment or two will seem to be fairly 'normal' (which, believe me, for my mother would still be crazy for most people). It is just so fucking sad to watch this and it's incredibly draining.

I know that I should be more tolerant and I swear that I'm trying; I mean, she is not in control of her mental faculties and so it isn't exactly charitable to get angry or exasperated with her. However, I can't help but admit that I would rather she were not here at all, because then I'd actually be enjoying the time here in the Keys and the holiday festivities with my family. This makes me a bad person and a bad daughter, but honestly - I've got a hard enough time dealing with family as it is and I have no patience or desire to deal with my mother in this situation.

All I want is to go home.

Packing.
Shipping.
Studying.
Finals.
Leaving.

Driving.
Asheville.
Barbecue.
Rain.
Bittersweet.

Adrenaline.
Patience.
Aggravation.
Feasting.
Walking
Excitement.
Hilarity.

Stress.
Reward.
Family.
Laughter.
Tropics.
Anxiety.
Impatience.
Cheer.

We made fruitcake.

Real fruitcake, made with real fruit - not hyper-colored gummy bombs. Also, a lot (lot) of booze.

Basting necessities aside, I have a fair amount of brandy leftover which must be consumed. Now. I can drink it on the rocks with a little orange; that's well and fine. But I would like to do something fun with it.

Anyone else have any recommendations?

Blah blah blah.

Whine whine whine.

Angry angry angry.

Ugh.

Ok, now that the usual is out of the way, today was relatively good. I went to bed at 1:30 this morning and woke up at 5:30; realizing I was never going to fall back asleep, I got up and toiled around the interweb. Had some breakfast, went to class, then managed to take a wonderfully looooong nap. I love naps. Had some fun this afternoon, worked out at the gym for two hours (which sounds like a lot more than it is) just so I could watch the new episode of Good Eats.

Yes, it's a problem. Dependency. Obsession. I know.

Dan'l and I finished watching the last of "Arrested Development" which was indeed a sad event, if not a truly hilarious one. My gracious, I do love Jason Bateman. Enough to see this? Not sure. But maybe.

Aha, Maybe...ok, really, the pun was an accident. Funny? Yes?

No. Alright.

Attending this university has chipped away - nay, jack-hammered - at my desire to engage in the down-and-dirty academics of archaeology.

The fact that my computer tells me I am misspelling archaeology (which I am not) is almost enough to make me want to return to my former degree path as a student of English. Living in a trailer out North Douglas; say what?

More than that, though, it makes me want to strangle whatever dictionary-deprived technology schlubbo (alright, that one probably isn't a real word - but it's a damned fine descriptor, don't you think?) let the computer go ahead and tell me I'm wrong. Does that computer have a collection a good 18 inches deep (side note: ahahahaha; dirty) of esteemed archaeological texts in front of it? No.

The only good thing about my Archaeological Data Analysis professor are his Soapbox Rants about Microsoft.

Of course, it is 4:30 am here, on this Godforsaken shriveled testicle of America's Wang. My body, refusing to have adjusted its biological clock from the backwoods of Alaska, is just now getting sleepy. Of course, my competence and reason hit the hay...well, probably when I stupidly decided to attend this university with the belief that it had to be telling me the truth when it flashed the shiny award of "One of the best Southeastern Universities!" per the Princeton Review. As I have said before and will say again, it is like paying for high school out of a bad Teen Movie, centrally located in Satan's Asshole.

Bitter? Me? No!

It is all my fault that I am in this Hellhole and I accept responsibility for that. I am severely depressed but, luckily, I've got this great knack for getting so incredibly pissed off that my depression is essentially negated by the sheer force of my unrelenting anger and frothing at the mouth. It's times like these where you can tell my father is a Republican and my mother's parents are your quintessential modern-day Catholics.

What should I do? Should I stick it out with my Social Sciences degree, primary studies of anthropology and history being my areas of Liberal Arts expertise? I don't have much of a problem with that, but I don't know if I have the fortitude to stick this out through graduate school. As much as I would love to be Dr. Valerie Rose (though the only people I would insist refer to me as such are my Richer-and-Holier-Than-Thou relatives on my father's side), spending my days digging in the dirt and discussing the conceptualized yet documented historical contexts versus the random yet physical context of human history...I just don't know if I'm really cut out for such business. I fear that only under particular circumstances I would truly feel enriched by and an asset to the aforementioned profession.

Perfect world? Go to culinary school; become a professional pastry chef while also training/studying to be a small-business owner. Open my own place (O!Bistro - get it? You don't get. That's OK) and bake breads, pastries, delectable bites of deliciousness, etc. I know that I should just do it; to hell with the consequence, everyone flounders under the weight of appalling student-loan debt [Daddy Dearest, bless his heart for pretty much paying out-of-pocket for my higher education thus far (his doing, not mine; honest) does not approve of my "passing fancy" with food. Therefore he will withhold all funds, love, inheritance, and legal recognition of paternity (OK; admittedly I'm just guessing on the last three - but he's seriously threatened to do so over less)].

Until I can climb out of this spider-hole that I'm sure doesn't hold a candle to the one Saddam had, I am furiously toiling in this wasteland of academe and society. No; "society" is a term reserved for civilization - this a human wasteland.

Now that it's 5 am, I should probably just stay up. I was planning on waking up at 8 so that I could be showered and alert for my 9:30 class, but maybe I will just force myself to stay up so that perhaps I'll actually be able to fall asleep at a decent hour later on this evening.

Ugh.

I am doing my best to get over this crap, but it's really hard when he's the only person I have contact with.

It's also really hard because I'm needy, physically and emotionally, and there is no way to satiate that. At least, not currently. Instead, my preferred solution just gets dangled in front of me, along with the haunting reminder of the last two years being a total farce. Rad.

I also severely doubt there is much to remedy my situation when I return home. I can't think of anyone who would be interested in me. As in, ME. Not just a little passing fancy to occupy a bit of time, but ME. So far, that seems to be the biggest obstacle in the way of a worthwhile relationship. Damn.

My mother might have lost her sanity but the old standby, "What you're lookin' at ain't never lookin' at you" still holds true. Double damn.

Oh well. I guess I'll just go have another cupcake.

So I had already told my dad about Dan'l and I being kaput, but finally wrote the rest of my family an email to give them the heads up, since I hadn't talked to anyone in awhile. This morning, after baking some pumpkin bread, I got a call from my aunt Anna.

"I'm really sorry that things there just keep getting worse for you. So that cruise that we had talked about for Thanksgiving? We're bringing you."

I'm stoked. 2 weeks away, and then I'll only have, like 2.5 weeks of school left when I get back. Plus, this way I won't have to either a) be all alone for Thanksgiving or b) be completely sad and emo because I'd be with Dan'l and his wonderful family but not in the context that I was supposed to be. Win-win.

I also dropped one of my classes, since they are all a relative waste of time and this one in particular is a black hole of both time and effort. I certainly haven't learned enough from this class to justify me writing 20 pages worth of papers for it in the next 5 weeks. Especially considering that I'm going to have to write a term paper/give a presentation for all of my other classes, as well. It was very liberating to just say, "Fuck it" and drop the class. Here the withdrawal period extends into November, so the class won't count against me on my GPA. Not only that, but I get three hours of my life back every Thursday night. Hoo. Ray.

I had a nice gin buzz this evening, but unfortunately alcohol + loneliness only exacerbates the desire to get some.

Le sigh.

You know what's great?

When you make a charge on your debit card to remove money from your checking account. Except the person you're paying doesn't actually process that charge for, say, a week and a half or two weeks and you don't know this. What's even better is when this happens with four or five different charges, and you think you're in the clear but they all pile up on your card at once. The best part of it, though, is only having access to your account online, and only being allowed 6 transactions with your account for the month. So your account gets drained suddenly, you incur three or four $25 overdraft fees, and can't transfer any money on your account because it's not a new month.

Yeah. That's fucking awesome.

I have insomnia lately.

Also, the fact that my love life has gone waaaaay down the tubes for the last two months (and now, effectively, has crashed and burned) has also seemed to have an inverse effect on the love life of whomever lives above me. More and more often I would hear the music of squeaky springs as my less-than-amorous nights here in this hellhole were (all) spent alone. Now more than over, alone they shall continue to be.

Naturally, they are moaning and groaning and squeak-squeakying away happily as I write this.

Were I not so adamant about not relying on false hopes and weakness-induced addictions, I would take up heavy drinking in a solo state. At least then I could fall asleep.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm single.

He basically got me to break up with him. As usual.

God. Damn.

Guess who found her Diaryland from high school, still active and as awkward as ever?

One week ago I was driving in the rain back from Mobile, AL, having just finished watching Ryan Adams & The Cardinals play an absolutely kick-ass 3-hour set. It was amazing and it blew my mind. I swear that they must have set up the encore playlist just for me, because it was pretty much every song I'd been dying to hear that wasn't played during the show.

The next day, I had a midterm in the morning that I finished just in time to hear the siren that was signaling an approaching tornado. An hour and half later I was basking in the satisfaction of classes (and my afternoon midterm) being canceled. I then returned to my apartment to nap, watch Good Eats, and enjoying the 24-hour thunderstorm raging outside my window.

So far, this week is not proving to be as equal in greatness. The only thing about this week that makes it particularly good at all is that it is nearing its end, which means I am growing ever closer to the end of my time here. It may also spell the nearing of another end, but the jury is still out on that one.

Tonight, I attended a lecture here on campus (I know, I know...after hours, not required - no grade benefit at all, actually - I'm a total nerd. I have come to terms.) given by Terry Jones, of such fame as this and this.

He is also famous for something completely different, such as this (which was co-authored with one of the English profs. here at UWF) and this. That is, he is one of the most eminent Medieval historians of our time.

Who knew?

Anyway, the lecture was all about England's Richard II, who reigned during the last portion of the fourteenth century before being usurped by Henry IV. Very interesting stuff, even if that portion of history isn't really your cup o' tea (see: Dan'l) - being that he is a natural comedian, and more importantly a successful one, it was quite entertaining throughout.

That was the entertainment for this week, other than my blessed Good Eats!, which arrived on a bajillion (ok, 27) dvds this week to my mailbox. Oh, how I do love Alton Brown. I have completed two midterms and must study for several others next Thursday, since I will be too busy getting hot'n'bothered on Wednesday evening to study.

Oh, yes. Ryan Adams. The time is finally upon (oh, how I wish) me.