people say she’s crazy…

I guess this means I’ve graduated. (that picture is obviously “american gothic finishes college.”)

I wonder how many peoples’ blogs have started with that exact line…

Regardless, I have. I am now officially one of those weird non-students who has a maniacal, self-aggrandizing blog. Maybe I will use it to review movies or talk about TV shows or smart books I’ve recently read, but chances are I’ll just keep talking about myself. I know how much that surprises you.

Things have been going pretty well these days. Graduation meant tons of family time and friends and more food than should be legally permissable, and then everybody up and left and I have less than a week to pack up my apartment to move myself, down to lakeview, where I will be surrounded by gay men (not uncommon) and roommate-less, except (of course) for Lily (no, that’s not really her). Something tells me I’ll be a little lonely at first, but eventually people will filter down to Chicago and come back from summer vacations, and I will have friends in the neighborhood and nearby fun co-workers, and my life will take on some new kind of shape which will not be the shape of the Purple Line “Express,” which I will not miss.

In the day-to-day category:
- I own way too much shit and clearly fear large boxes–all I’ve packed are book boxes.
- Lily has an eye infection, and doesn’t mind getting the drops once she realizes you aren’t trying to squirt that nasty-ass milky antibiotics from her last cold down her throat anymore
- My obsession with craigslist missed connections has faded, but I did learn how to play spider solitaire, so productivity hasn’t changed
- Haven’t beaten Jessica at LPR since March
- I recommend the White Hen sausage biscuit for breakfast–but only from a nice downtown White Hen. It’s real good. I dream about it.

I think that’s it for now. Guess I should buckle down and do some work so’s I can stop thinking about that delicious sausage biscuit. By the way, I totally blame Kathleen for my sausage biscuit obsession–if she didn’t always order them from McDonald’s in the morning at Natalie Bolch’s spend-the-night parties in elementary school, I never would have known… sigh.

c’est tout! au revoir, pee wee.