Well, it's official. I start nursing school on August 22nd. I'm taking Chem, Bio and nursing Math in my first semester, and I'm actually really excited about all of that. I'm in really good shape to get into things because of my four year degree, they tell me it will all be a lot easier on me than out of high school people, so that sounds like a deal. My admissions advisor asked me what my degree was in the first time I met him and when I told him he said, "Wow, that's quite a detour." I guess if you look at in some ways that's true. But in other ways, like looking over your shoulder with your eyes suinted into straight lines or something, it all makes sense. Well, it does to me anyway. I've already talked about my big theory on how college majors are such a lie. And besides that, I didn't get a degree to get a specific job, but because I enjoyed my majors. Philosophy and English, and all the various and sundry things that are involved in them, are my passion. I love reading and writing and discussing and arguing and, well, learning in general. But for a job, a career, nursing feels right. Am I justifying? Maybe. So screw it, I'm done with that. Just wish me luck.

I had such an amazing vacation out on the Cape with Noah. I wish I had journaled more. We went to Boston and Provincetown and had barbecues and tried new restaurants and walked all over and drove all around in Homer's Jeep, and talked about everything under the sun. We made hardcore life plans together. We laughed and made love. After all that, the whole concept of a forty hour work week and seeing each other nights and weekends seems painful. Do you know that I just read, in the last two days, the first full book I've read since I met him? That sounds terrible, but I have no time to read or journal or anything when we're together, because we're too busy talking. Aahhh...no more gushing, I promise.

It seems as though a lot of people are jumping on the I'm abandoning my diary bandwagon. What's up with that?