Friday, August 22, 2003

Moving On

August 22nd, 2003

It took eight trips and two going away parties, but I am finally settled in the dorm. Classes start tomorrow.
My roommate is going to drive me crazy, I can already tell. This conversation literally happened:
"I don't know why they bother grading me, I'm just here for the boys. And really, I'm too cute to do anything like hard work."
"I think they grade you because this is supposed to be an institution of higher education instead of a box social."
"Ew, who would socialize in a box?? Don't they like, smell like hobos?"

I cannot be held responsible for any actions committed during a temporary loss of sanity resulting from prolonged exposure to stupid.

Tuesday, August 5, 2003

The Times, They Are A-Changin'

August 5th, 2003

I'm getting transferred to Berkeley, next week. I thought about getting rid of the house, but... it doesn't feel right. I can keep it, keep just paying the property taxes on it. There's enough fundage in Mom's settlement to cover that for several years. That may be what it takes, but dammit I'm getting my medical degree. Then it's onward with the plan. I'm going to kick ass, be a hot Doogie Howser, have my whirlwind romance with the love of my life and have gorgeous and brilliant babies.
But the degree comes first. I'll have to live on campus, but the good news is the Alta Bates Medical Complex is just a hop skip and jump away from the dorms. Meaning, I can get there on foot. I can sell my piece of shit car, apply for scholarships and maybe not have to touch Mom's money. I feel like I should save it for something really important. What, like school? Well, yeah that's important. But I think I can do this without her money. I didn't do it her way so I don't completely feel like I deserve to use her money. Not yet.
Hal is getting released from the hospital tomorrow. "Until the tumors come back," he says. So I don't have to worry about him getting manhandled in the ward without me to look after him. I don't think he's got anyone at home, though. I feel kinda sad for him. I gave him my cell number, so he can call if he gets too lonely.
Deep breaths.
I can do this.

Friday, August 1, 2003

Good News, Bad News

August 1st, 2003
Ho-ly shit. I got in. The admissions committee decided to make an exception for me, based on the passion of my arguments and the display of academic fervor prior to my mother's death. Classes start in twenty two days. That's the good news, and the bad news. I can't quit work just to focus on school, because I don't think there's enough money in my mom's insurance fund to cover all of the tuition. I think I can get done in less than the traditional seven years, though. That will save me a little. They're working me a little harder at the hospital; Cecilia (the boss lady) is convinced I'm equipped to handle the added stress. I think she's a sadist.
At least I haven't gotten back into the habit of needing to sleep, that will help.