What The Hell?

So I just got this really weird text message from Yahoo! Messenger, that some Julia person has sent me a message. What? Who? The message is that whoever the hell this person is has "heard of me and wanted to say 'sup." Seriously? What is this? I'm confused and a little concerned with the apparent ability to attain my phone number. Has this ever happened to anyone else?

It's fortunate I'm leaving pretty soon for Rolla, cause otherwise I might freak out and kill someone. For not doing anything, my life is kind of stressful. It's all the getting things ready that's so annoying. Like getting Draper settled at my dad's. In and of itself, this isn't going too bad. But my father, well, he kind of won't listen to anyone about anything, so all our tips and little tricks fall on deaf ears. So he calls night after night about this problem or that problem, and no matter how many times we remind him that we already warned him this would happen, it doesn't matter.

And today, Draper got left home alone. Dad says he blocked it off so Drape can only get into the kitchen and garage, but I have a feeling he blocked it off with a fucking chair so Drape is probably running around the house in a panic because he's been left behind. We told Dad to take him on the road. Drape loves the car, and does so well, but Dad just wouldn't listen. So, when I talked to him, I said, "Well, when he makes a huge mess don't call us to complain. We warned you." Dad just laughed, and said he probably would still call. I responded, "Oh, great, so we can keep getting stressed out even though we tell you all these things in advance." Then I got hung up on. Awesome. I called him back and asked, basically, if I should go over there when Mom gets home for lunch and make sure my dog hasn't gotten into any chemicals, and Dad kept telling me it would be fine, he would be fine, don't worry about it. So, fine, I won't worry about it.

Thank God I'm going to Rolla in little over a week. I can't wait to be fair enough away that I can't do anything about anything.

So, Um, About That . . .

It's kind of 9:54 currently, in the lovely BC. And, ya see. I'm in bed. For the night. On a Saturday. I would have been in bed earlier, but I went to a movie. Yeah, I'm that kind of 20 year old . . . the kind that goes to bed early when it's cold out. I can't function when it's cold out . . .

Apparently You Don't Add Yokes

I just failed epically at making Egg Drop soup. As in, legendarily epically. In retrospect, it makes sense that the yoke is not, in fact, what makes the soup so yellow at Oriental Gardens, but at the time, it made sense. Basically, I ended up with scrambled eggs in chicken stock with chunks of cornstarch floating around. Not delicious.

But I remain optimistic! I eat enough Egg Drop at Oriental Gardens (the local Chinese place Kim and I go to so frequently, we don't even have to tell them what we want) that I should be able to figure out how to make the stuff. We have more chicken stock, more eggs, and I care enough about this thing to dedicate some serious time. Yeah, Egg Drop, it's that important.

And just when I thought everything was shaking out, things get shaky again. Go effing figure.

And slowly but surely, my jostled life is getting back on track. Student loans are figured out for the most part, Draper is figured out for the most part. It looks like starting up classes in about five weeks won't be all that difficult. Thank god.

Decided it was best for Drape to stay with my dad while I'm at school. It's just too hard to care for a very needy dog and get everything done that I have to. I mean, in order to graduate in a year, I have to take 20 hours a quarter, plus classes during the summer and December mini-quarter. Awesome. Great. My favorite. Actually, I'm not too worried about it, but I definitely wouldn't have enough time to take proper care of Draper, and go to school, and work. Social life, well, I'm not worried about it. I like to go to bed early. But it wouldn't be fair to Draper being alone at the apartment as much as he would, so this is a good compromise. Dad has the time to dedicate to him, and can take him on the road. Drape loves going in the car. And, once I'm done with school, I can have Draper back living with me, assuming Draper isn't happier living in Princeton.

And, on top of all that awesome, I just found out one of my favorite teachers is still at DePaul. I had heard he was just serving as a mentor for seniors and graduate students, so the fact that I can take classes with him while I'm there is pretty exciting.

All in all, it was a good day.

I drove to Chicago yesterday. Yesterday morning, to be exact. And I was back before noon. Drove straight onto Lake Shore Drive, exited at Fullerton, drove by campus, and went down Sheffield to Wolfram. Then, I parked outside of my apartment building, checked my mailbox, and went up to my studio apartment.

The whole thing was a little surreal. I moved in just after New Years, following going ice fishing in Wisconsin. Ben hung out for the first two weekends, and after that I stayed up there for about three weeks. The only problem was Draper. His separation anxiety got so bad, I couldn't stand to leave him alone because someone was complaining about him barking. It was all pretty stressful, and since I don't have a job or classes yet, I decided to head home for a while. A while pretty quickly turned into "until I get sick of everyone and/or classes start." So I just have this empty apartment, sitting in the midst of Lincoln Park, one of the neatest neighborhoods in Chicago, one of the biggest cities in the country.

Chicago used to be a really big deal for my family. We'd go up a few times a year, always waking up really early and spending at least two hours bumbling around, filling the car with things to make the ride more tolerable. It was exciting, and Chicago was so far away, and it was so big. It all took a lot of planning, and once there, we had to take advantage of everything, walking the whole time, of course. So, as you can imagine, it's weird for me to just drive up one morning and head right back after a half hour poking around my apartment. It was weird when I was going to DePaul before, and I would ride the train home on Friday morning to work at the Coffee Cup all weekend, and go back on Monday night. It's weird that now Chicago is kind of like Princeton to me. You can just go there. Run in, run out. Decide last minute that, yeah, you probably should head up there. Ride the train in and be back that night. Chicago is tangible now. It's just another destination.

And just north of downtown sits all of my stuff. Books, movies, clothes, dishes. My bed, my table, my couch. All of it is there, while I'm here. I'm excited to get back to my life in a few weeks.