Here I am again in college, the place I feel I was meant to be. The ocean scented candle I got for my birthday flickers politely and my schedule for tomorrow's classes sits tucked away in my purse, waiting to be ravaged into the paper nothingness it so inevitably will become when I dig around furiously for it as I head to my first class of the semester. As soon as I opened the door to my naked room I knew I had left all of my frustrations and unhappiness behind me, seven hundred miles away. I took great solace in knowing that customers were entering the grocery store and demanding price checks but that I was in my gray carpeted haven, the one with the comforter I got on sale but has to be turned out to be the most soothing form of bedding I own. Right now I am so overwhelmed. I'm jet lagged, a little neurotic, half of my belongings still reside in plastic tubs, my internship starts soon, and I realized this morning that I have hardly any deodorant left and no toothpaste. But it's alright, because this is a place of growth and learning, not a stagnant cesspool of retail horror. All of the hours I have given that job are washed away by the salty ocean of collegiate promises to rise above the bare minimum and become someone enviable and worthy of respect.

No more whining. Until someone pisses me off.