I think I need some rehab. Or maybe I just need some sleep.

Shut up. I get that using Ke$ha lyrics to describe how I feel about my graduation from college presents a dichotomy. But, I can use “dichotomy” appropriately in a sentence. So that’s goo…you know what? Nothing makes that okay.


My point is that the weepy portion of the semester has commenced. Yesterday. I really thought I’d be okay. I finished my thesis. I printed it. I took pictures of it. I even was okay with the nice e-mail my advisor sent me. I walked up to the third floor of Holton, and I was even okay when I put it in his mailbox. And…then I ended up crying in the stairwell.

I’m not kidding.

Not like huge, heaving sobs or anything, but there were definite tears. I mean, I freaking loved my thesis, guys and I worked so hard on it and I finished with the quote by John Paul II that says, “As the children of Abraham we are called Christians and Jews to be a blessing to the world. In order to be such, we must first of all be a blessing to one another,” and I remember when John Paul II died and I cried about that too and he was such a good man and I can’t believe I’m graduating from college and I don’t care that I’m coming right back this is devastating…and well, you get the point.

SO. That happened. And the floodgates? They’re opened. Incidentally, this is another reason why I won’t be pleasant during pregnancy. Once you get me going? I will cry at anything.

I cried at the end of a documentary about Pius XII this morning. Okay. It was five-thirty. And I was a teensy bit exhaustive. And it was beautifully done, man.


Don’t judge me.

I think I’m finished.

With the confirmations for the season, I mean.

Events- hell, no. I can’t even keep track of the stuff I have going on the next few weeks. I’d tell you, but I literally cannot remember what they all are. If you’d like to get in touch with me, I’ll be in a tent on the corner of Downer and Kenwood because I’m pretty much needed for various events in and around campus from now until graduation and frankly it’s just not worth the gas to drive back to Grafton.

But confirmations- they’re finished. Which is sad. I love confirmation. I loved mine, I’ve loved every one I’ve ever been at. I think it’s the chrism. I really love the smell of chrism. Thankfully John has so much hair that he kind of still smells like it!

So it was a lovely weekend and I think I have an entire forty-eight hours before some other extraneous lecture or ugh, having to go to school.

Speaking of things which I am way too busy to deal with, I am so. effing. thankful. that I finished my thesis early so I don’t have it hanging over my head. I’m turning that sucker in tomorrow. Oh, it’s beautiful. Really really long and perfectly footnoted in Chicago style* and oh, well, I’m pretty sure tomorrow’s post is going to be all about how I had a breakdown in the hallway of Holton when I turned it in because MY BABY I CANNOT LEAVE YOU!!!

(And…does anyone wonder why I’m single? I can’t imagine they do.)

*Which it may have not had this morning. When I realized they were in the wrong format. Oops. I’M SORRY, OKAY? The Center for Jewish Studies uses a different style and you know what, I cannot be expected to keep them straight. I don’t care that I’m going to be a history grad student.

That sound? Is my grandmother turning in her grave.

So…I spent the evening watching The Vicar of Dibley episodes on Netflix with my sister. Because what the hell else would I have to do? Right?

(HEY. I’m only 22. It’s not sad for a few more years.)


We watched the Christmas specials that ended the series, where Geraldine marries Richard Armitage. (He’s also known in my house as The Guy Who is So Hot Even My Dad Likes Watching North and South.)

And. New life plan. Screw this whole history professor thing. And my bordering-on-militant Catholicism? Gone.

Nope. I’m going to move to England, gain four hundred pounds, and become an Anglican vicar. And then meet Richard Armitage and have lots of sex and babies. Anglican babies. Because while I find the idea of hitting on your congregants a little bit disgusting, seriously, did you click on that link before?

Protestantism is where it’s at.

Good to know.

The last few weeks I’ve been really, really sick in the mornings. Not just, ew, I kind of feel gross. Because that’s pretty much par for the course. I get up at 4:30. There’s no way to feel except kind of gross at 4:30 in the morning. No, this is like, wow, I need to sit down kind of nausea.

It perplexed me. I mean, it definitely wasn’t pregnancy. People rarely mention me in the same sentence as the Blessed Mother unless there’s an “isn’t anything like” in between us. But maybe a phantom pregnancy like on CSI? Can the CSI people come investigate? Please?

Well, I couldn’t let that opportunity go, so I decided to try to figure out what was causing it.

I’m fairly intelligent. I’m 22, I’m graduating with honors and get a whole special ceremony for that, I’m started graduate school in the fall. You’d probably think someone who convinces a university department to pay her would call her doctor.

Pssh. I don’t have a doctor.

My doctor started offering botox injections and charging me a $3,700 stipend (on top of insurance co-pays) for the privilege of yearly gynecological exams.

Oh. And she tried to massage away my mom’s cancer.

I decided that me and my gynecological needs could go somewhere that wasn’t beginning to look like the set from the Real Housewives of Atlanta.

Except…I kind of haven’t. It’s been, like, a long time and ugh, just like so much work trying to make an appointment and…you know what? I don’t need to justify myself to you, internets. I have been BUSY. With THINGS. IMPORTANT THINGS. Like Doctor Who episodes. VERY IMPORTANT THINGS.

So. It was the internet or nothing. But not even WebMD.

Nope. I turned to answers.yahoo.com. Oh yeah. My parents are so thrilled they poured all that money into tuition now.

And according to Shauna1593 from Poughkeepsie, my unbelievably awful morning sickness is probably not due to anything weird like a phantom pregnancy but a reaction to a multivitamin.

So. I guess CSI isn’t coming.

This is why you need mommies and daddies.*

*I’m not getting political. I swear. By “mommies” I mean “people who pay attention” and not “female.”

My dad is awesome. He’s just great. Nice, kind; a really good man. I mean this in the least creepy way possible, I hope I end up married to someone like him. The only person he loves more than the three of us is our mom, and that’s awesome too.

But. He’s a teensy bit oblivious sometimes.

I’m graduating from college on May 16th. Now, this is kind of a big deal. And by big deal I mean the biggest thing that’s happened to me thus far in life. As though the whole academic milestone thing wouldn’t be big enough because I’m a crazy person, I’ve never had a real graduation before. This is big. I’ve been talking about it for…oh…about a year.

Today it became apparent that my father had no idea when I was graduating. May? He thought? Probably? And oh, were we going to get her something?

I thought my mom was going to die. Or kill him. Or maybe one then the other.

He loves me. He loves me more than most everyone in my life. And yet May 16th? Didn’t ring a bell.

I’m trying to think of someone I know who doesn’t know when I’m graduating. Certainly not my friends. Hell, even kind-of friends know about it and have congratulated me. A guy who’s being ordained the day before, which even I will admit is way bigger and better than getting a bachelor’s in Jewish Studies, even sent me an e-mail that said, “Hey! Less than a month!”

My dad is way more into me than all those people. And still no clue. And he doesn’t have to vow obedience the day before.

Oh well. I still love him.


I’m pretty boring. I study. A lot. I have friends, but they study a lot, too. So when we go out it’s usually to a coffee shop. To study.

Yeah. It’s pretty exciting. Obsess about getting at least a 98% and you too could have this glamorous lifestyle.

But this weekend, I actually had/have things to do. I know, right? For once the fact that I work next to no hours is okay because I have something to fill those hours!

(Well, except for the no money thing. Oh well.)

I’m calling it my “dual covenant” weekend because today was all Christianity, all the time. Confirmation, different Mass because of course confirmation isn’t the Mass for the weekend that would be way too simple, and then dinner. During which we pretty much talked about…Mass. And Stemper’s gift certificates. And how a Roman collar probably would cut down your chances of being carded. Although my money is on yeah, cut down, but not remove entirely because you still look like you have yet to hit puberty.

Of course, most of those things almost got cut because confirmation was like ten times longer than I expected it to be. It was beautiful and moving and I got to distribute Communion which was wicked cool but also kind of scary because the Cathedral? Well, it’s like Mass in the Third Reich. But…really, really long. So I almost ended up having to find another Mass and cancel dinner with an text that said, “Have to reschedule. It’s not my fault, your boss likes to talk.”

But I didn’t. So that was fun.

Tomorrow will be the epic and much-photographed field trip to the Illinois Holocaust Museum with Katie. And I’m so freaking excited. Like, really excited. So. Stay tuned for that.

Oh! Also! My beautiful Vera Bradley wallet came this morning and I love it quite possibly more than I will ever love my children. I also may have told a seminarian that while it was not named yet, it was definitely a girl or possibly a gender-confused boy.

And I swear, I wasn’t drinking.


At the end of last semester, I had my normal freak-out. You know, a good week of omg I love this place soooo much I cannot live without it for five weeks what does the world even mean if I don’t have to be studying some implication of the British partition of the Middle East is that chocolate?

You know. Normal.

And I was terrified. Because I knew that I only had one semester left. Which meant that the freak out at the end of this semester? Would probably kill me. And I figured it was going to start early.

So I’ve been kind of waiting. Like I force myself to look at the syllabi that say “Week 11” or whatever. And I force myself to think about graduation. And…not a whole lot happens. I mean, I’m not really leaving. It would be pretty stupid to get all teary over leaving Holton Hall when I’m going to have an office there next year. Yeah, I’m sad that I’m not going to be an undergraduate anymore. And I know that the whole entire Center-For-Jewish-Studies part of my life is ending. And okay, it was really bittersweet when the university sent me an email that listed all my degree requirements and they all said “satisfied” next to them.

But things were going okay.

Until I bought vitamins.

There were 100 capsules in the (Target brand- I’m not leaving school, remember? I’m poor.) container. And then I realized that by the time I had to buy vitamins again, I wouldn’t be in college.

Now. I don’t know if you’ve ever ended up having a breakdown in the pharmacy at Target. I don’t really recommend it, but sometimes it’s apparently necessary.

(Don’t get me started on what the Ugly Betty series finale did to me. It’s just embarrassing.)