OK, So I had a wonderful last week of classes (mainly because I spent so little time in class). I was able to completely saturate myself in art/music/poetry/what have you. I'm surprised I didn't die from the overdose.

Here's how it all broke down:

Monday: Work, broken sporadically by phone calls securing a last-minute venue for a last-minute poetry reading for Tuesday. Everything came together in a nice little bow last-minute. Kind of beautiful.

Tuesday: Allowed to show up an hour late for my internship, which provided time for last minute phone calls. Spent the first hour of my internship in a "docent concert" with a bunch of fifthgraders, and loved the Ravel. And whatever amazing thing the horns did during the recapitulation of the main theme in the Imperial March by John Williams. Went for lunch with the rest of the department at California Pizza Kitchen and found myself a summer internship, inadvertantly. After lunch, went and ran reading-related errands. Arrived at the library two hours early and spent the first hour checking emails and revising my internship paper. Reading was short but wonderful (Multi-talented people like Cameron McGill make life worht living). Open reading followed--and everybody read wonderfully. Hurried over to my alma mater to catch my fellow flutist's senior recital. She's an amazing musician, so it was wonderful. Picked up my other friend from there and continued onto Cameron McGill & What Army's concert with The Devil Whale and an amazing singer I forgot the name of. Fell in love with Mr. McGill's voice and lyrics and harmonic progressions and realized I'm never going to be able to have a healthy relationship while in love with a song.

Realized I didn't really care cos I'm young and life is for the doomed to die.

Wednesday: Got well-needed rest. Revised paper and emailed it to the prof. Printed out internship paperwork. Spent an afternoon basking on earth with some wonderful gents, and having the vague sentiment that I should care more about Earth Day. Took an Eastern European friend to see Cameron McGill & What Army play in Happy Valley. When it comes to concerts, Happy Valley has a tendency to smash expectations against the wall. Usually in good ways. Drove home, ranting to my friend about art the whole way. Drove home after dropping her off, thinking myself a pretentious ass.

Thursday: Last day of internship. Didn't cry. Attended panel discussion about joining PeaceCorps or AmeriCorps. Didn't cry. Completed Layout & Design final satisfactorily. Didn't cry. Got gas and agreed to meet friend Rob for our last after-class coffee date EVER. Almost cried. Had friends the jazz musicians serenade us. Decided half-hugs are apparently bad luck among musicians (which explains a lot, reminds me of high school sweethearts, and am now wondering if I'm reading too far into everything...probably am). Had former interest the jazz bassist shoot jealous glares as I gave friend Rob's unstyled mohawk a little massage. So I smiled at him. (Not entirely kind. Not at all kind. All good karma earned on Tuesday lost like house points between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Must remember both boys are my friends...and must not play them off one another, even if friend Rob is in on it.)

Friday: More sleep. Read poem at the college's literary magazine debut. Received Narcissism-enducing amounts of praise. Had to escape the black box theatre--couldn't stand being in the same room with myself (and can't stand typing in the same room as myself now). Played 'Minor Suite' for friend Rob as we sat in my car, then drove him the short way back to his place.

And tomorrow is a day for cleaning, thank you cards, and emailing, I think. And after Tuesday, I will be an undergrad no more. *cries*