This has been a long time coming. I have gotten infrequently berated over the summer by the small circulation of this piece because I haven't updated this since April. I just don't go online in the summer, from home, because of the mind-blowingly slow dial-up connection, that times-out and disconnects and takes a fucking hour to log on only to move at a snail's pace. Anyway, here I am again, at the breakfront of a new school year, my last, and the end cannot come soon enough. In fact, it will fly by, but I am absolutely itching to get back to the life I put on hold in Chicago when I came down here to sticksville. It seems I'm alive when I'm home and not when I'm here. That is, of course, a gross exaggeration, but has it's basis in truth. I casually informed my parents that I blog, so they may be the newest members of my membership circle. I must remember to be careful in what I say, for there should always remain a kind of boundary between parents and child. I have prided myself on retaining some kind of innocence, mystery and intrigue about me with them, but all walls must come down at some point. Mom, Dad, if you're reading this right now, or in the future sometime, there are no secrets to tell, but you may not totally recognize the person you're reading. I wonder if this is the new way sons deal with there parents, or daughters too for that matter, because the people I know follow the same pattern. It's not to lie or to hide things, not at all, but it, I think, is a matter of keeping things private from the authorities. You grow up with your parents as your parents, not your friends, so there is by definition some kind of disconnect that arises. It is only natural and normal, and probably should always be, for I cringe when I think of the certain brand of parent that tries to be buddies and friends with their offspring. There is a system of separation that exists, people, one that should exist and should not be toyed with. I think if this system were to implode and disappear, I would always feel beholden to my parents instead of to myself. So therein lies the paradox of me: I prefer Chicagoland infinitely but when there feel entirely beholden to the 'rents like a youth, and I can really hate it here but feel free. Riddle me that.

It's cats and dogs here right now and my 2pm Con Law class was cancelled for the second time in two classes without any kind of warning or notice. So I'm upstairs in Lincoln Hall in the ultra-modern computer lab that no one knows about waiting out the downpour. I forgot an umbrella and would rather not get the books and papers in my backpack soaking wet because I rushed home for no good reason.

I was thinking earlier how weird it is that I can feel so inately comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time here in Chambana. And it alternates like every five minutes. Sometimes I blame it on the societal demand to go out every night and drink and party, when I prefer to do that in moderation. I'm a louse, I'm lazy, I'm easily comfortable doing altogether nothing. So while the people around me do what is expected of them, I do not always follow convention, and despite feeling good about that, I feel bad, like I'm not as good, or something because I don't adhere to the drunken lifestyle people say I should. But I have gotten to the point in the last few months of school (minus the summer) where I go out less and less and that is not was I mean or meant by what I said. I just don't want to go out every night. And it has also gotten to the point where my roommates don't expect me to go out so they don't even ask me to come along or even what I'm going to do. It's like I'm invisibly sharing an apartment sometimes. And this all happened in the last three days already. Let me be clear: It's not necessarily a bad thing, but I've gone from good to bad at making plans. I used to be up for anything, and the first one to toss out an idea. Though Mary would have you believe that I would beat around the bush about what you may be doing that day before I bring up anything else, that wasn't always the case with everyone. Anyway, I just wish people would return my calls.

So I sit here with dreams of a 3.5 this semester and I can feel myself slowly falling back into my mode of just sliding by. That is not what I want this time around, I feel the need to straighten up and be efficient and proud. I need to not feel listless and stand up to meet the expectations of my generation (which, I won' t lie, are fairly low). There are things I want out of this year, and I'm not afraid to voice them, because that puts them out there in reality and I can't just pretend I didn't want them to make myself feel better when they don't happen: great grades, a job, and a girl. What no one tells you about college, is that you end up feeling completely alone sometimes even when you are surrounded by people. You wake up one morning and wonder if this is how adults feel, in the real world, and if it ever truly goes away.