For A Midnight Swim

I hate reading my past blog posts because sometimes my sentence structure is just... gross. Same with my journal entries. I need to work on that. No. You know what I need to work on? Not being too lazy to go back in and change it.
I've driven to the good ol' Y twice in the past two days (no, neither time was on the freeway; yes, I'm still a little bit scared) and I must say I'm far too excited to go back. And though I wish I had a job to augment the anticipation, there's still a lot goin for me. Like living with this one. At a place like the place I'm living (of which I'm not going to tell you the name because part of me is always afraid rapists read this blog and want to catch me.) And actually going to school again. There is something so deliciously different about a college campus than any other school I've been to--no one really has to be there. They pay mountains of money to attend, so that learning achievement going the extra mile nerdyness? You're an idiot if you're not like that. 'Cause everyone's thinking: "Why waste the money if you don't want to learn?" Which makes life at school one million times more enjoyable when people aren't there because the law/their parents say so. They're there because they want to be. (Of course, this excludes most GE classes....)
Anyone else excited for school?
No?
Okay.

My Girls -- Animal Collective