when no place feels like home.

The highlight of my Monday was my new planner. I know this might sound lame to some, but it was actually quite thrilling for me. I like that start-over feeling, y’know? Where even though nothing in life has changed, there’s almost a reason for a new beginning, like New Years Eve, which is the ultimate start-over.

The book also signifies a year gone by at Stony Brook. Though it may have felt long at the time, it certainly flew by in retrospect. (Then again, doesn’t everything in life fly by in retrospect?)

In addition to the new girly pink & purple planner, I also picked up 5 one-subject notebooks, which will be the most I have been prepared for a new semester/year of school since….sixth grade. Maybe it’ll stick. Or maybe I was just dragged to the University Bookstore by classmates on our break. I got a lot of gum samples out of the deal, though. AND I found out that the little tag you’re supposed to cut off certain clothes before wearing them is still in a pair of shorts I own. I found this out entirely too late. Ultimately, I should have stolen the books, since everyone was prepared for me to beep (again) on the way out. Heh.

I spent Monday & Tuesday night in Lindenhurst. I realize now that I call both places home, as I had to change “I spent Monday & Tuesday night at home” to include what ‘home’ was in that sentence. My apprehension about spending less & less time there continues to grow. But I haven’t spent a long enough period of time thinking about it, so I don’t really know what I think about the entire ordeal. I may just wind up approaching it like I would most other things of a similar (apprehensive) nature: ignore it until it passes. Because, eventually, it will pass. I will proceed to go through the motions, and it will either go well or go badly. Pining over it certainly isn’t going to help either situation, is it?

Tuesday was the most work-productive day I have had in a long while. I worked for a few hours at the Speech Center, then went home and did 2 hours or so of RA work, then I did another 2 hours or so of reading for class the next day. I neglected to do the extra credit. I meant to when I got home yesterday, but I forgot, and now it’s too late. I’m really going to have to pick up the extra credit slack or study and write my ass off to get an A in this class. Sue likes me, and I know that, but I also know she’s not going to give me an A for that reason. I honestly have to earn it, and my work and studying have been less than stellar. My work will reflect this if I don’t get my act together.

Anyway, when it finally got down to bedtime Tuesday night, and I was photoless for the day, I decided to take a picture of my water bottle, because I have been and will continue to be unable to eat or drink anything other than water at least three hours prior to bedtime. It’s part of the sleep class I’m in. We’re doing our own mini-experiments regarding sleep habits and interventions. Only I know mine is going to fail miserably, and the only bad thing about that is that I have to explain why in my final paper. I’m fairly certain “because my hypothesis was whack” just isn’t going to cut it. In any event, the water bottle never made it to print because something much more important occurred. I finally understood the “flower” feature of my camera. I’ve had that bad boy for a good four or five years now, and never have I grasped the concept of its function. Evidently the international symbol for ‘macro,’ the flower-feature (because its cooler to say than ‘macro’) allows my (and most all, I’d imagine) camera to focus on something directly in front of it. So I started playing around with it, and here’s the best emphasized difference. First picture, mountain-feature (I’m sure it’s a symbol for something, though I don’t know what). Second picture, flower-feature.

The difference in background and contrast is utterly amazing to me. Maybe I’m just easily amused. But now I’ve been dying to take a picture of a flower, though I’ve yet to.

So I played around with that for a little while longer, before convincing myself it had been long enough since my last meal/drink/snack and headed to bed. I had only been away from Chris a day and a half, but by this point the missing had slowly started to creep back in. Packing stuff for the next day definitely helped tone down that emotion.

Wednesdays tend to be a tad on the treacherous side. A few hours at work, and then long, grueling hours at school. They’re grueling mostly because all I want to do is get to Queens and avoid traffic, and staying until the end of the regularly scheduled class time would equate to the epitome of rush hour. So Wednesdays are the day I generally shake my leg under my seat in anticipation of leaving.

As I didn’t do my extra credit dream paper, which, incidentally, would have taken me 20 minutes had I not forgotten about it, I decided to talk in class in an attempt to get the other potential extra credit point. I asked a question or two, and then, when class was slowing to a dream-relaying-by-every-person-in-the-room halt, I opted to cover the next section of notes and do a Freud summary. Thank you, Dr. Waters, for forcing me to spend half of an entire semester studying the nutbag that is Sigmund Freud.

When I finally got to Queens, I waited patiently (read: napped) for Chris to get home so we could go see The Dark Knight. I swear if I didn’t have to pee through the entire last third of the movie, I would’ve loved it even more than I had already, which was a LOT. I am definitely going to see this flick in IMAX, and I’m kind of glad Joana wants to go with me. I understand Chris’s reasons for not wanting to, and I don’t blame him for it, but it’s so unlikely I would go alone. Now we just have to follow through with the idea of going.

So after the long pee following the movie, Chris & I decided to improvise on dinner at home. (See what I mean about the ‘home’ thing??) After my whiny attitude proved little results, we settled on Spaghetti Os and Cheesyburger Chef Boyardee, mixed together. Don’t worry, we classed it up with some merlot we acquired at a vineyard in Red Hook.

Upon consumption, we began the “hasn’t Chef Boyardee always tasted like metal to you?” discussion, until it occurred to Chris that he owned a silicon spoon (from hiking/camping). After noticing a difference between utensils used, we decided the metallic taste comes from the metal spoon. So Chris used his silicon one. And I? I used whatever I could find…

Oh yeah, there were meatballs too.

We’re broke, but were goddamn fun. đŸ™‚

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