The Road Goes Ever On and On

Or: The Ongoing Struggle of a Twentysomething Seeking a Reality to Substitute For Her Own.

I cannot help but notice that I've been getting successively further and further away from doing anything like what I went to school for, what I want to do, and what I am actually good at with each successive job, and that needs to stop, my friends. Grad school has been an idea that's been bouncing around for a few years now, but one that has yet to pan out for what is actually quite a good reason: poor planning and not knowing WHY I want to go, other than that I should.

So Friday night something clicked somewhere between my heart and my head and I figured it out. Where, how and when, are still hazy, but I've got a fairly clear path, small steps to achieve the longer journey made more clear by having that vital why formed.

( Notes to self are behind cut. )

In other news, last week I got a call from the city that someone was going to come by to inspect the apartment (again), only this time it will be a thorough job in order to write up an estimate for some contractors from the city to come in and fix things.

What this means in the long run? Let's find out together, shall we?

I keep looking at my bank account and freaking out, and then reminding myself that I haven't poked my roommates for utility checks for two months. And, as this is summertime, those are some considerable checks.

Oh life. When are we gonna get it together, you and I? One wonders if taking out a bunch of loans that could otherwise be used to buy a small country (I hear Liechtenstein is actually quite nice in the spring) in order to go back to school would be considered grabbing the bull by the horns or running the heck away? Screw you hippies, I'm using the bull TO escape.

More reasons why I love my eFriends

Heh, so this is a bit long, but I went ahead and took as much of the conversation as I could. Man, I haven't had a conversation like this since the great Communist Smurf Debate of '01. BEHOLD the great that/which/who discussion that occurred in chat today.

( The aunt which killed my father in what was for me a traumatic event like unto a trip to the Sahara with a damned and baby-eating communist, was also the zombie that killed my dog with a hatpin, but I found that to be as much a relief as the outline of Gina's life done in French by Mr. Black. )

WHEN I SAID I WANTED TO LIVE IN A HOBBIT HOLE THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT

Ahahaha, oh my friends. My friends, there are no words. I can only show you this delight to which I returned home this evening.

First I noticed this:

"What is it?" I wondered, as, no doubt, do you. "Is it a nut? Is it a big fat beetle butt? What can it be?"

AND THEN I NOTICED THIS:

Oh YES, my friends. Those are EXACTLY what they look like, growing, completely of their own volition, OUT OF MY THRICE-BLESSED WALL.

I laugh. I laugh for two reasons. First, mushrooms are cute and I like them. Two, THERE IS NO WAY. NO WAY AT ALL. THAT THE LANDLORD CAN CONCEIVABLY WORM HIS WAY OUT OF THIS. I have mushrooms growing out of my wall.

EDIT!
That first mushroom?
It grew in the two hours it took us to pub.