hose damned My final grade is ready to go. I can't believe that my undergraduate career is finally over. After sixteen years ... I'm done. Sixteen years. Relocating 150 miles from home. A marriage. A child. A divorce. The appearance of my Panda. The loss of my mother. The disappearance of my Panda. The reappearance of my Panda. Marriage in Jamaica. Becoming insta-mom to my now 10 1/2 year old stepdaughter. Three jobs, five cars, and a partridge in a damned pear tree.
Anyhow, sixteen years are up. And I'm done.
Until, of course, I start back to pursue my MBA in November.
I thought that I'd feel differently than I feel today. I thought I'd be jubilant, ecstatic, even giddy. But no. Right now, I feel almost ... scared. I guess that I've been at this for so long that I don't know what to think. As a good friend said, sometimes we prefer the evil that we know to the possibilities that we don't.
My lovely husband relinquished the TV tonight for 130 glorious minutes. I got to watch New Moon in 61" of hi-def 7-channel surround-sound glory. Ahhh, it was lovely. I got my Pack on in peace. I think that it's likely my favorite book and movie so far. This runs counter to most of my other Twi-types, I know. But I really like the ancillary stories ... the Quileute tribe, the Volturi, and even the rest of the Guard. I think they did a great job casting Aro. And I still want to donkey punch Rosalie. I know I'll like her better in Breaking Dawn (but not all that much after all), but I still want to grab her blonde hair and crack her one.
Off to watch Top Gun for the eleventybillionth time, and to crash out. I'm rather sleepy.
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