awaiting autumn.

So, Baltimore was amazing. It truly was a terrific time. I loved the area and having a new location to explore. It was good to spend time with my older brother as well as Carly and my dad. I will definately be going down there again sometime soon. Either to visit my brother or look at possible graduate schools - if I ever get that far!

I've narrowed my 4-year college interests down to three schools:
1) Utica College - Child Life Program, Early Childhood
2) SUNY Oneonta - Child and Family Studies, Early Childhood
3) Canisius College - Child and Community Services, Early Childhood

I will be going into talk with advisors soon to figure out if my classes will transfer to each school and if I should change anything to be able to get there. I'm nervous - going through the whole applying process again. I also don't like the idea that I will be away from everyone I met @ MCC. I've never gone somewhere totally by myself and that idea scares the shit out of me. I just hope I am ready and I hope I succeed.

I've started writing again! Finally. Slowly, I'm writing another book. I'm hoping this one keeps my interest longer than the last one. It's interesting and I like the characters that I've thought up. Here's a couple beginning paragraphs from the story I'm playing around with:

There were souvenir bottles of unopened wine. Picture frames, which carried the faces of those known forever and those known for a moment. Fading denim with frayed knees and pleated skirts with matching blouses hidden beneath a box flooding with crocheted scarves and socks ripped at the heal.
For a moment, all I could do was stare. I watched my hands as they carefully folded my pink and lavender bed sheets that would be in hibernation mode for the next few months; skeptically piling them up from the comforter to the pillowcases. I began to stand up my picture frames on the rug, tracing the faces of those known for only one year, but who would be remembered for eternity with the tip of my finger. Mary. Naomi. Trevor. They were names that were carved into the front of my mind.
My bedroom smelled of honey and oak and looked emptier then the summer before leaving to St. Merlin University. My desk was cleared of all pens and literature books and dust was left to sleep in its place. My closet was filled with old sweaters and t-shirts with black writing scribbled all over the back from summers spent at camp. It was sad to see myself growing up and even more frightening to see such little change.