Leeeeaaaving on a jetplane...

So I'm off for the summer in a few days and I'm having mixed feelings about the whole thing. I guess that's what happens to me every time I leave somewhere, even if it's just temporary. When I go home, I don't want to leave. When I'm here...well...more often than not I don't really care about leaving because I know I'll be back because this is where I live now. Normally I'm just excited about seeing my family. This time though, it's a little different I guess.

You could call it bad timing. You could call it bad judgement. You could call it pretty much anything you want really but...I'm not so psyched about going away this time. I mean, I'm still excited. And I'm sure this summer is going to be great and the job is gonna be a really good experience but, part of me still wants to stay here. Weird.

Oh well, whatever. This is my life I suppose. It's strange. I'm so used to moving. Me and my friends are so used to saying goodbye because we do it all the time. I've gotten used to being away from my family and only seeing them once or twice a year for a short time. Every person I've dated knows that I'll leave for months at a time to go home and while I'll miss them and I'll be sad to say goodbye, I'll still be happy that I'm going. It's strange because no matter how "used to it" I am...I still get a bit mopey before I leave any place, be it here or home. I still wish that I was one of those people whose family lived down the street and who still lives in the same city as her closest friends. I realize that I'm really lucky in a sense as well. I've been places that most people only dream about. I'm so used to 20 hour plane rides that flying cross country isn't much different than taking a drive down the street to me. I have more stamps in my passport than most of my friends here combined. I'm "worldly" (or at least that's what the woman who interviewed me said.) But still. Eh...I dunno. I guess the grass is always greener or whatever.

I'm babbling...and that didn't really make any sense...maybe 40%. Blargh...okay...I should sleep. More things to take care of tomorrow. Wheee...I'm so busy and important.

What means life?

It has come to my attention in recent weeks that my social life (if you could call it that) has gone from small to non-existent. I realized this this past Friday when my roommate came home from a night of drinking with his friends and found me sitting on my bed, surrounded by papers and books, trying to finish off some of the work I have due over the two weeks. B just looked at me and said "You're working on a Friday night?!" followed by a small *you're so pitiful* headshake. Now, this NEVER happens. Normally I'M the one coming home and doing the headshake! I'm the one who makes the comments about not having a life because work/WoW. The world has ceased to make sense to me.

On the brightside, I've finished most of my work. One of my project due dates got pushed back a week so that takes a load off my mind. And I've finished 3 of the 5 other major final projects I have due. I've also finished all of my presentations. So...this means I only have 3 things left and then I'm done with this semester! Yessss!! I mean...I do have to actually present my presentations but whatever...that's easy.

Friends are visiting in a few days. I'm more than excited. If I was any more fucking excited I would explode. And then there would be a mess at work and someone would have to clean it up. Speaking of messes, work was a mess today too. I almost punched an undergrad. It was great. Or not. She deserved it though, I swear.

Okay...I'm babbling. I've drank too much coffee today. Makes me write like I have ADHD...which I might have but whatever. Okay...gotta look productive now...