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I'm going to blame the lack of literary content in this blog on misplacing my password

Okay so it's been a while. But you know what? Don't judge me. First of all, forgive me, blog, but I cheated on you. I started a different blog...but it was more of a dedication rather than a blog. In a nutshell that one didn't work out (in more ways than one) so I'm glad to be welcomed back with open arms. Really. 
Because this is my first entry in, oh say, 9 months, I'm not expecting too much out of myself. Maybe because my brother is hammering away on his clarinet, still sounding like a A.D.D cuckoo bird on speed with a pipe down it's throat. At least he's trying. Or maybe because I'm suffering from only the most extreme form of Boston-sickness ever experienced, who knew I could miss suicidal drivers, horizontal snow, and Red Sox fans so much? Or maybe because I'm not feeling too inspired right now. Choose your weapon.
However I'm perservering and at least attempting, however sadly, to write again in this at least once a week. I know I'll regret it later if I don't, or be horribly embarrassed by my horrible grammar, lack of rhetorical humor, and calloused subject matter.
I think I'm going to '89 the attempt to describe last summer and first semester of college. I worked my ass off, got my ass kicked, doubled my ass size, and never had time to just sit on my ass. Which is okay, because life is best like that.
I would like to pat myself on the back for never getting homesick while in Boston. Probably because I never felt so at home in my life. I made myself a family: Jenn, my innocent, Peruvian roommate who never cleans. Jake, my metrosexual shopping buddy/go to guy. Ally, my absolutely lost-her-marbles soulmate. Brittanee, my comedic relief running buddy. Anya, my politically correct New Yorker, and Catherine, my partying Kleptomaniac (only when she's drunk). Together, these people have shaped my life into the zoo it's been but hey, everyone loves a good zoo. Penguins are nice.
Christmas break has been, well, incredibly anti-climactic. I flew to Florida, got along with my mom for  five minutes because she was on to doing the next pain in the ass thing, burnt, blistered, finally tanned. It faded two days after the excruciating 23 hour car drive back to Saint Louis. I set my bags down and within five minutes was bored. 
Maybe because my once Carribbean blue walls are now eggshell. Or my white furniture with the signature make-up stains and nailpolish-remover marks is now brown. Gone are my home-y posters, pictures, Christmas lights, and stuffed animals. Hello, guest room. Nothing screams welcome home like eggshell paint with brown accents.
I suppose it reflects the meaning of the room: PRISON.
Prison because in addition to my room being stripped away from me, my drivers insurance also was reclaimed. So now I literally can't go anywhere. Hello, bike.
I even miss community bathrooms. At least I could have a conversation complaining about the throw up spewed across the room with Anya while showering.
Oh well, five days and counting until I return to my 277 Babcock street heaven!!!
Love,
Me

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