So, I spent the last six posts either entertaining you or boring you to tears with the day-by-day account of my three-week trip to Europe that I wedged between graduation and my long-awaited return to the workforce as a real adult that makes money and keeps regular hours. It was really the last experience of my “Extra Credit Life.” My last experience as a second-time undergraduate pretending to be 22. And what better way to spend it than riding through Europe on a tour bus filled with 22 year olds? So now that the blow-by-blow is finished, I can ramble on about the little details, the nuances, the tidbits. I wouldn’t call Europe a culture shock. India would be a culture shock; Japan would be a culture shock; Europe is more of a “culture eyebrow raise.” Continue reading
It’s been four days since I got back from the most epic trip of my life, hopping across Europe in a tour bus with a bunch of strangers, many of whom became great friends and who I already miss dearly. And every one of those days I’ve been contemplating my “Europe Trip” blog posts, because I know how desperately so many of you want to hear about my trip, and each day that goes by I feel more guilty for not providing you every detail of my amazing journey.
I’ve arrived at the end of the thinking and the guilt-tripping and my computer is open on my lap and I’m furiously typing this out. I will apologize in advance if this/these post(s) are too detailed, or not detailed enough, or too personal, or not personal enough. I will do my best to tell you about my trip and what it meant for me, but as anyone who has had an epic experience knows, “you just had to be there.” If you have a burning desire for a particular story you feel I’ve left out and you know me in person, please give me a call and I’ll regale you with the details.
This post is about dogs. Corgis specifically. I will try to tie it to school at the end, but the truth is, it’s pretty much about Corgis.
I’m a cat person. I don’t like dogs. I’ve never liked dogs. I don’t like their breath, or their drool, or the crotch-sniffing. They’re loud and obnoxious. They’re wiry. They don’t melt into your lap like a cat. They have to be walked. They don’t use a litter box. They never leave you alone. Eugh! Dogs! Continue reading