Chris and I are hosting a little impromptu virtual food drive for our wedding (also, conveniently for the holidays). If you feel like helping us meet our fairly modest goal, I would really appreciate it.

I have been in school for nine weeks, and in LA for six months as of today. Other than feeling like I never have enough time, things are going well. Moving out here and in with Chris was a great decision. Choosing an apartment with white carpet was… a less good decision.

Sitting at the kitchen counter watching the World Series while writing a VOLUNTARY UNGRADED assignment (did I mention the voluntary, ungraded part?) while drinking vast quantities of ginger ale? Ain’t nothing wrong with that at all.

So I hung up Facebook because it annoyed me. It still does, but I decided to open it back up for school reasons.

Make up my damned mind!

Week 8 started today and, frankly, I’m tired. We’ve been taking the subway and it requires my levering my tired body out of bed at an hour that just doesn’t seem to work for me. I’m no longer a night person, but oh lordy I’m not a morning person either. I’m just… a person. And even that’s a bit questionable at times!

It’s been curiously unstressful. Oh, I had ramped up the anxiety to 11 last Monday before my first class, but it was as if the lights came on and the stage fright went away the minute the first professor walked in the door.

So far, so good.

Oh, they call it a night splint or something like that and it’s for TMJD rather than post braces, but I put it in at night and instantly feel like I’m 14.

I didn’t even have braces, so I feel like a phantom 14 year old. A figment of my own imagination.

And it makes me drool.

I am too, too sexy for words.

Once again, I have demonstrated that it’s hard to beat me in sheer procrastination and laziness.

I’m hoping to have a focus on health law, because that’s where my heart lies. But who knows? I may become weirdly inspired by… something.

Wish me luck, please. I’m gonna need it.

There is so little still connecting me with my old life. Even the house has a tentative offer on it. Even the cats Steve knew and loved are getting old.

Lasts

I wore these shoes. I wore this job. I wore
a million chunks of limestone out and see
no one to bid goodbye to but a bug
that waited by the door for something big
to wander by that never would be me.
The parking lot is empty as I leave,
my steps as graceless as they ever were
with gravel heaving out beneath my feet,
or pool hall ricochets. A decade. More.

Well, he is anyway.

We went to Disneyland the day after we got engaged. The happiest place on earth for me is wherever he is.

My goodness, I’m sappy.