Yep, I said it. I feel old. Today is the last day of my last summer vacation ever, and I’m not sure it even counts because I have a meeting later for which I’ll have to at least shower and leave the house. Iowa City is once again overrun with just bodies: bodies in the streets, bodies in droves pouring out of the liquor stores, tomorrow bodies getting lost, meeting for Mesa, cramming the Cambuses. I refuse to believe I’m one of these bodies, that I’m some how removed from the masses and am better than their mundane summer stories and 21-ordinance griping. I have a very “been there, done that” attitude, and I’m secretly kinda let down that I’m old enough to buy my own beer. We’re now entering the Get a job, get a job, get a job phase– no, thanks. If I’m told one more time that the job market has us all fucked from the get-go, I will scream and secure my sleeping bag space under the Benton Street bridge. I hadn’t given class starting tomorrow even a minutia of a thought until I had an inbox full of emails from professors with attached syllabuses. There’s so much reading. One of my professor is taking attendance. I have to give a speech on my first day of class tomorrow. Apparently I’m quite enjoying the bold HTML function today. Quite frankly, I feel completely overwhelmed. Three months of carefree summer loving has been beaten to a bloody pulp by course packs, a schedule already full of appointments, and general chest-gripping panic attack-inducing anxiety. So basically I’ve gone from feeling old (yes, I wrote the first part of this post this morning, pre-wheretheeffdidsummergo breakdown) to feeling incapable and infantile and stressed. I promise that was my last bolded word for today.