09 August 2002 - 12:16 p.m.

Sorry for being super-overdramatic in my last entry. I have since learned that even if I have the worst headache I have ever had, but proceed to the Rush concert as planned, then arrive home late to find important documents missing, I should not post to Diaryland about it all.

It turns out that my Mom found my financial aid application, took it to work where they have one of those postage machines, and mailed it without telling me.

So I guess I am going to grad school. Which is good, because I want to go. However, every time my own irresponsibility comes around to bite my skinny arse, my parents seem to handle things effortlessly, which is bad, because I want to go to grad school as a grown-up, not thanks to grown-ups.

I haven't really taken a whole lot of initiative as far as getting myself to Virginia, other than applying and getting accepted, of course, at which point, everything was going to be free. Huzzah. So I relaxed.

However, a full scholarship means very little when I can't even drive myself to school.

Two years ago, I thought I was cool for not having a driver's liscence. It had not occured to me that I would have to move to New York before now in order to remain my cool and alternative self.

And, again, the deepest cut of all is the fact that after not once offering to take me to the DMV for my permit, or practice parking with me, yesterday, my Mom said to me, "When I put new breaks on the car last month, I asked the mechanic if he thought it would last another year. He said no problem. So as soon as you get your liscence, I'll put new tires on, and it's yours."

Thanks, Mom.

No, really. I am super grateful. I am super-grateful inept loser choad.

I don't want to turn into a big whiner (too late) and complain about my crappy childhood, which was decidedly far from crappy, but to be perfectly honest, having a set of parents who aptly and willingly take care of me no matter how often I have tried to assert my independence comes with its own set of problems.

Take driving. It is just absurd how difficult it is to pass a driving test. Jess knows. I know. But nobody seems to feel our pain. And in my own personal situation, maybe it's not really hard, but it's hard in relation to other things, like, oh, obtaining a car for free. Princess is getting a free MA. Princess is getting a free SUV. So why can't someone wave a magic wand so that Princess has a driver's lisence, and no fear of driving or even riding in cars in general?

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this before, but I hate being in the car. Ever bus, every truck, every tree, every telephone pole seems to be coming after me. I never expect to leave a vehicle alive. This is completely bizarre, because I've never even been in a car accident. But I'm pretty sure I will not be even a barely competant driver until I've had some kind of therapy.

There is no good way to end this entry. I guess I could summarize, ("In conclusion, I'm spoiled and neurotic"), apologize ("Sorry I'm always so spoiled an neurotic, you guys"), or change the subject all together ("I'm going to the Warhol Museum after work"), but nothing seems fitting.

So the only solution seems to continue on with this entry forever.

Don't get up from your computer, just meditate on the pink background until you reach Nirvana, or drop dead. Kay?

Kay.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: