First, I apologize for the typos in the last post--I'll fix those someday. Second I offer helpful advice for the day: don't be a bitch. Nobody likes it and one day you'll just get popped.

I played my last Steel Band concert today. As the end of the semester (and my college life) draws to a close I find myself experiencing a number of "lasts". In some ways it is very depressing, but I look ahead with zeal. I have no idea what awaits me after I graduate, most likely many months in my parent's house where I will be unemployed and driven crazy by my mother, but I have little fear it will all work out eventually. At least I know my mother won't leave her dishes full of food on the counter...and if she does we own a dishwasher. I will never complain about chores at home again; that is for certain. It is amazing, a person moves out on their own and all of life's little luxaries, dishwasher, washer and dryer, clean bathrooms, become so much more valuable. I have realized the depth of my spoiledness as a child--I used to complain about doing the dishes. I had to put them in the dishwasher and put them away when it was done. Boo-fucking-hoo. At least I know for my own children, if they complain about dishes I'll allow them to experience washing by hand for a few days. I have to admit, I look forward to free laundry. Being able to wash my underwear when I wish without raping the couch for quarters will be truly grand. I'll be living like a queen. Hell, I might even get to drive every now and then. It will be like being sixteen again--except I won't have to worry about acne.

I have to admit I've nearly written myself out for the day. I have actually taken it upon myself to revise and edit one of my fiction stories (yes, feel free to thank the Lord). The forty-page monster, however, does not take kindly to being revised. It managed to suck seven hours of my life away last night without my noticing. Don't ask how that happened, you would have to be an artist to understand. Notice I said artist and not writer, because that phenomenon is not localized to writers. I've known painters and musicians to suffer the same fate. At least we are self entertained. My creative processes are flowing, though, I have to admit I think the blog helps. I can relieve my mind of the majority of random thoughts that swim in my brain all day, and it leaves me amazingly free for other things. I apologize to those of you who read the random drizzle I birth onto this page, but I'm not really sorry for you. You must be somewhat special if you've made it this far.

Alas, I think I've rambled myself into a corner. It is time to return to my life of nail biting and movie watching. For all of you I know, ta-ta. For all of you I don't, toodles.