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Two more weeks. Apparently I will probably know about grad school before I leave for Europe. That's nice, 'cos if I don't get in I'll forget about my cares in Paris.
Paris, Brussels, Normandy, Paris, the Basque country, Barcelona, Croatian beaches, Budapest, and Prague.

A whole month and a half. Eleven days in Paris. A week in Barcelona. How fucking cool. And then when I get back I fly to Reno so I can drive the Element back.

I'm so excited about my future. Maybe grad school this year, definitely eventually. I'll have a functional car for the first time in my life, I'll get an apartment with the man I love and want forever and ever, I'll get a job that hopefully doesn't suck (and even if it does, I'll spend wisely and travel often).

I have been working fucking hard for a long time. It is not easy to do what's good for you, as silly as that seems. It is not easy to be who you want to be. Who I want to be. But I'm closer than ever, even though I often still get the crazy urge to just fuck everything up for no good reason.
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I'm so incredibly busy. I come home stressed out of my mind, I grump at Alex and make a list of the shit I have to do that never ends. I grumble a lot. Then I smoke weed, feel better, but do none of the stuff I have to.

The pressure feels so intense. I skip classes in order to get shit done, and i still don't get it done. I could work later into the night, sure, and I should, but then I know that Alex is waiting for me at my house being sexy as fuck and just waiting to bathe me in love and comfort and I'm like, "fuck the library". Two and a half weeks until Europe!!!!!!!
I get to see Sophie and Arthur and Cate and Paolo all over again! :)
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On Monday I got an email asking me to apply for a MA in English starting next fall. They augmented the requirements and extended the deadline so that I could apply. There are three positions open. They would pay my tuition and give me a teaching position that pays as much as I'd make working the crap jobs I've had so far.
So I am applying. The application is due next Wednesday.
Looks like my future may be taking a turn.

It's sweet to be recognized as a good student. The head of the department (my advisor), and two of my professors were the ones who got the ball rolling in my court.
Maybe I can study English forever. Or at least another two years
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To be good.
What does it mean?

I don't think that most people really try very hard at it. Sometimes I wonder if that's a bad thing or not.

I think - we all do bad things. We all sometimes make choices that aren't the most altruistic. Let's be real. We talk shit. We don't call our family as often as we should. We lose contact with old friends. We judge someone by their shoes or their eyebrows. We tell lies, even if they're small ones, or ones to protect someone. Sometimes we are not honest with ourselves. Sometimes we get into relationships because they flatter us, or fuck someone because they flatter us. Sometimes we tell someone how we feel or what we think without considering how it's going to affect them.

And when I say "we", I mean "I". But it seems like everyone's doing that.

And is that okay? Should the fact that it isn't that bad mean that I can continue?
I always thought that it was impossible to be perfectly good, and so why try? But now I'm seeing Alex being so good all of the time, such a beautiful, caring, honest great fucking human being. And I'm like, why can't I do that? Because I tell myself it's okay to talk a little shit once in a while, I'm only human?
Of course there are some things it's impossible, or damn near, to be good at all of the time. Like food. If you're not eating animals directly, you're still eating vegetables that were grown with pesticides that kill wild animals and plants, or buying products from companies that kill animals and exploit the environment. It's why I stopped being a vegan. 'Cos I felt like I wasn't actually helping anything, all I was doing was feeling self-satisfied and morally superior and a pain in the ass to anyone who tried to feed me. But I don't know. I've thought about going back to vegan. Or at least vegetarian. It's harder with the gluten free shit, but it would be possible.

I just want to be good.
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I talked with Millie tonight about our twentieth birthdays, and I realized I don't remember mine. I looked it up on the livejournal archive, and apparently I spent it at the library. 20 was the worst year. So boring, so reclusive, so pointless. A wasted year, if there is such a thing.

What will I say about 23? I had a great birthday. A barbecue with friends. I had the biggest friend group I'd ever had. I broke up with my very smart but very redneck boyfriend. I lost those friends. I studied and loved English. Theory and old literature. I tightened my friendships with the people I kept around. I learned to balance having fun, being social, drinking, smoking - with being a little reclusive,a little bookish, a little snobbish. I fell in love with a man who is intellectually and emotionally compatible. I will graduate college and travel Europe with Millie.

At 24, I will move in with said boyfriend, buy a car, study for my GRE, maybe have a real-ish job. 24 seems so short. It seems like it will be a quick little blast and then I'll be 25. 25. Holy fuck.

But lets not get too ahead of ourself here.

23. 23 is good. 23 has been eye opening and totally coming into myself. 23 has been love and loss and strength and accomplishment. It's been more me than ever before.

Thank God I'm not 20 anymore.
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