I'm not sure what I really have to say about having an online diary. Sure, the fact that I have spouted out 500 writings of worthless drivel is impressive. Whoopee! But I have to mention something about this particular date. A year ago today, May 12, 2002, I was sitting around with a bunch of people, many of whom I won't ever see again, repeatedly getting my traditional headgear knocked off by balloons, beach balls, a rather large raft, and yes, even an inflated condom or two. Just your typical college graduation I guess.

Today, May 12, 2003, I spent eight hours in the shoe department of one particular establishment of a large retail chain, listening to one elderly person after another ask me something along the lines of this: "Uh, do you have this shoe in my size? 10 1/2, maybe 11, or is it 10? Hmmm. Bring those, and the 9 1/2 and 12 just to make sure."

It really makes you think, doesn't it?

It really makes me think about pizza.

But mostly because I just had pizza for dinner.

Anyway, do you remember the scene in "The Matrix", when Neo and Agent Smith are fighting in the subway stop, and Agent Smith has Neo in a headlock right on the tracks? As they look at the lights of the approaching train, Agent Smith says, in his deliciously flat voice, "Do you hear that, Mr. Anderson? That is the sound of inevitability......" (yadda yadda) Of course, Neo does the cool jumpy thing and gets away and runs off to save the world and be The One and everything.

Somehow I think I never got out of the way of the approaching train. I think the not-so-mythical "real world" hit me full tilt before I could achieve any amazing feat of acrobatics.

If you've read this silliness from the beginning, you know what the dilly-o. I had every intention of going away to grad school for music performance last August. But I didn't. Why? Because I was scared. Figurative train maulings will do that to you.

Oh, but throw in the best birthday ever in that mix, would you?

I auditioned for the local chamber orchestra in September. I had a great audition and the conductor loved me. But for concert after concert, he only chose music requiring two flute parts. So I blamed my increased lack of practicing on not having any motivation (ex. being in an ensemble) to do so. Not good.

Of course, at the end of September, I started working at Sears. Is it possible, among other maladies, to lose one's soul in a train accident? Or perhaps, to have it so injured and weakened that, over time, it is put on a sure pathway to amputation?

October and November went by in a fog. The two happiest days were when I snuck up to campus and saw the band play before a football game, and then actually got to go to the next one. But that is an entirely different reminiscent spiel that I will spare you from here. :)

Christmastime in the world of retail moved on into a very boring month stuck at my mom's house in the middle of nowhere, which, sucky as it was, only made me realize how much I miss having my sister around on a daily basis.

(cleaning crews arrive to peel the squished geek off the front of the real world train)

February, March, April, and now May again.

(remnants of squished geek are peeled off the real world train and flushed down the proverbial toilet of life)

Where the hell did the time go? I'm in no different a place than I was a year ago. For some strange reason, the flute teacher at my chosen grad school still seems to think I must be teachable. I'm in the process of trying to start the process of doing all the necessary paperwork. My problem is, I have yet to see my place in the "real world". This needs to be fixed. I can't waste another year. I need serious encouraging ass-kickings, allowing me to put myself in the direction of "the hell outta here". Yep.

(toilet clogs and overflows)

So that is my story. What it has to do with writing 500 entries in an online diary, I have no idea.

So yeah.

Well, yeah.

(flushed squished geek returns for her next life as an alcoholic, develops an affinity for a certain Mr. Daniel, hailing from a small town in Tennessee that the geek had visited in her previous life, as a matter of fact, indulges in an entire bottle of his finest, and runs over to the proverbial toilet of life and, well, pukes)

The end.

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