Phew, that's over and done with. Definitely not so much like the quick and easy ripping-off of a band-aid, but I won't go into any details here; not just because it's personal, but because my eyes get very moist whenever I try and recall.
All day yesterday, it felt like some very important piece of my existence had been quietly removed in the night... like a block in the middle of a Janga tower, or, hell I don't know, a very important part of a car that I don't know the name of because I don't know cars but that is somehow essential to ensuring the car operates properly. Did I mention the fact that I haven't written in a while?
Anyway, besides the metaphorical absence of Kristen, I have the physical absence of Kristen... and John, Jason, Daniel, Aniele; plus I only have Thomas for some afternoons and weekends. So begins the interminable, month-long trek to Sept. 20. I'll probably be spending lots of time reading the UC message boards, downloading enough music to make the RIAA damp to its panties, burning pointless mixes, and moping. I'm also armed with Thomas Hardy's The Mayor of Casterbridge and Dom DeLillo's Underworld, plus a 3-tape French listening kit to help me brush up for my language placement exam. My prediction is that I'll be so bored come college that I'll embark on a weeklong party binge that will leave me on the shores of Lake Michigan, half-conscious, singing Danny Elfman movie scores.
More goodbyes tonight; brace myself.
All day yesterday, it felt like some very important piece of my existence had been quietly removed in the night... like a block in the middle of a Janga tower, or, hell I don't know, a very important part of a car that I don't know the name of because I don't know cars but that is somehow essential to ensuring the car operates properly. Did I mention the fact that I haven't written in a while?
Anyway, besides the metaphorical absence of Kristen, I have the physical absence of Kristen... and John, Jason, Daniel, Aniele; plus I only have Thomas for some afternoons and weekends. So begins the interminable, month-long trek to Sept. 20. I'll probably be spending lots of time reading the UC message boards, downloading enough music to make the RIAA damp to its panties, burning pointless mixes, and moping. I'm also armed with Thomas Hardy's The Mayor of Casterbridge and Dom DeLillo's Underworld, plus a 3-tape French listening kit to help me brush up for my language placement exam. My prediction is that I'll be so bored come college that I'll embark on a weeklong party binge that will leave me on the shores of Lake Michigan, half-conscious, singing Danny Elfman movie scores.
More goodbyes tonight; brace myself.
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