Did I just get attacked in my own graduation card?

"We are so proud of you! It wouldn't surprise us one bit if you would someday be Secretary of State".

This is the text from inside my graduation card from my grandparents. Convinced that I was reading my grandma's hieroglyphic-esque handwriting incorrectly, I even made my mother take a stab at deciphering it. She came up with the same translation. There are only four explanations for this. In order of my preference, they are:

1) The same uber-Catholic, conservative grandparents who shit-talked Obama three months ago are now feeling the liberal pull, and hoping that I get hooked up in his Cabinet
2) They think Condi sucks and are hoping that I can somehow bring peace to our country via my communications degree
3) They think Condi is doing a bang up job and want another woman in there ASAP
4) They don't think women should rise up above secretarial positions (such as the one my grandma held for thirty years), so Secretary of State is as good as it'll get for me

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I have a new stuffed bear named Shantay

Everyone has to have a "type", right? I always thought so, but could never really find similarities in the guys that I have dated. Anyone who can retrace my dating history is also shaking their heads right now. I've liked every type of guy from thugs to preps, whiny emos to low maintenance athletes.

I have now realized what the common thread is. I attract guys from a myriad of backgrounds but only one future. That future is far, far away from me. If you want to get specific, I have yet to date anyone who does not eventually require a long distance relationship.

Naturally, it just happened again. I got smart, though, and confronted the situation head on. We both agreed that it would be best to let things run their course. When his job started (two days after my graduation), we would be rational people who would break it off and start up a civil friendship right off the bat. To the shock of uh, no one, it isn't going quite as smoothly as planned. The last few days have really sucked, and I have been way more emotional than I was supposed to be.

When I came up with this brilliant break up plan, pretty much all my friends told me the same thing. I'm not as strong as I pretend to be, so I could never pull off an unemotional breakup. Joel was the only one who really thought I could do it. I should mention that when Joel describes why he likes people, he sometimes uses phrases like "I don't think I really like him, I probably just had a high oxytocin release and my body felt a rush". (In other words, we feed off each other like the dating freakshows that we are).

Sometimes I am really good at ending these posts with relatively good insight or a solution. Tonight, I just pretty much want to scream a long stream of swear words at my computer and slam it shut. So... I guess that means my epiphany hasn't hit me yet. Bueller? Anyone?

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Here come the waterworks

I've been crying lately. It's not that I'm not a crier, that I don't ever have small emotional breakdowns. I'm just usually a private crier, able to hold it together until I can make it to the safety of my own room and really let go.

To the excitement of all of my friends, I'm sure, I've recently taken to crying in public. Or at least in social spaces. Sober? Check. Waaasted? You bet. My first memory this morning, still feeling pretty tipsy, was that I cried last night. I actually don't remember the crying as much as I remember apologizing for it. I am hoping it was a few glistening tears and I pulled it off like a sexy 1940's screen siren. I am almost positive this is not the case.

People are leaving. Leaving Madison, leaving my life indefinitely. It reminds me of the two months of send offs that my high school friends and I had before freshman year. Except that unlike high school, we aren't going to have a common place anymore. Our apartments are leased to other tenants, and Madison isn't going to be my home ever again in three short months. I'm going to have to go to Seattle if I want to see Annie, or San Diego if I want to see Katie (I love that I'm bitching about having to go to these sweet places over Wisconsin right now. Ridiculous.)

The weirdest part, perhaps, is that I am just finally to feel like I'm at home in this town. Somehow, this year I found a better sense of myself and of the kinds of people I want to surround myself with. Now some of them are cruelly being taken from me, and I'm not quite ready to say goodbye.

Hmmmm how can I wrap this up? I really want to tone down the depression before Blogger decides to casually add Dashboard Confessional onto this page by default.

Alright, I'll just say that when I called my mom crying today (read: sobbing), she listened to everything I needed to say and then said "at least you know you aren't a coldhearted bitch". S-Mo-P is nothing if not in good in crisis situations.

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Four more reasons to love Sheila Mo Patty

I love my mom 365 days a year, but today's conversation was even better than usual. Highlights:

1. she used the word 'biatch' in casual conversation... "I guess I wish I could just be one of those biatches that demands stuff on Mother's Day, but I just asked dad to finish the laundry instead"

2. she covered the receiver up twice in order to yell "no, i don't know where your nut cup is"

3. she was genuinely surprised when telling me that she returned home last night to three random girls hanging out in our living room with my fifteen year old brother (will NO ONE listen to me that he is secretly a badass?!)

4. She told me not to worry about not having made dinner reservations for all of graduation weekend "because you know your brothers don't eat anything other than pizza and burgers". I can just see it now: my family going balls to the walls at the KFC/Taco Bell combo as everyone rushes to make their sweet resos at Cafe Continental.

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