In today's world, ditching a Xanga is not just ditching a Xanga. It's really saying something about yourself. GOD MOM BRING ME MY DORITOS...

Oh dear.

Well, I ditched the Xanga because I couldn't make it look how I wanted it to. For the record, this one doesn't look right either but I have more confidence that Google will get there than that Xanga will. I refuse to post actual things in an LJ, because I just do.

I will be going to Boston on Sunday. You will probably have read that all the possible places, like Facebook...and Xanga...and if you've spoken to me at all...listen a move gets consuming okay? Don't judge me. YOU'RE JUDGING. STOP IT. The point is, I will be happy to leave for Boston because I can stop saying goodbye to everyone and everything around here. I've said goodbye to Jess, Lauren, Jenny, Lauren's friend Nicole who was also with them at the Florentine, and all the Hamtechies (save Julia and Tim because they live in Boston and I will see them) with greater and lesser degrees of finality. You can't say goodbye to a place, though. And I must say, it feels like I'm going for an extended vacation in Boston, not moving for three months. Oh well. Things will happen.

I also got to say goodbye to my grandparents yesterday, who looked older than I've ever seen them look. My family, when I told them this, responded with the ever-pragmatic "Well, they are older than you've ever seen them." That's true, but it's not the point. The point is, well, when you graduate, see, people ask you what you're going to do with your life. But to some extent, anything we do now isn't about satisfying who we are now. It's about being self-aware enough to follow a path you know you'll be satisfied with when you're eighty, ninety, dead dead dead. I saw my grandparents today and hoped I fare better in old age, like my mother's mother, who is a tough old buzzard a nuclear device couldn't dismember even if it tried real hard. My father's parents say they're happy because they can sit and have their memories, but...I just can't imagine that's true. I imagine they created that company line long ago to keep their children and grandchildren from feeling guilty for not visiting them more. I don't know who's worse off in their situation: the woman who doesn't remember anyone or anything but her husband and probably won't understand death when it comes, or the man who sees it coming every day and chooses to take care of himself and his wife despite his physical inabilities and her loss of self. After I saw them I made an internal vow to write to them always but how much good will that do them? It'd do me more good than them I think. Oh well. Enough of this MORBIDITYNESS.

Last night, finally got home and ended up showing Mom and others videos on YouTube because my parents are hip like that. Also, will not comment here on Dracula-Tron because if you haven't heard the story I should tell you in person.

Speaking of Annual Conference choir rehearsal, it was possibly the most ridiculous thing I've ever done. The song is about injustice and condemns Social Security and sweatshops, and the people who are in the choir are all over fifty except for like two of the girls. I think I was a bit too snarky for the Methodist singing crowd, especially since yesterday there were only clergy sessions. The choir was...well...REAL bad with the music we're supposed to sing on Saturday, but when Sam was playing "76 Trombones" as filler music while the band got ready, everybody was singing along just fine. My response was to say "We should just sing this one. Better yet, we should put the other song's lyrics to this music. I think that would be REALLY APPROPRIATE." Their response to that was generally *cricket...cricket* I dunno. I thought it was funny.

Here are the things that were ridiculous:
1. The song's lyrics
2. The fact that the rehearsal was run by Bonnie Hibbard who did VERY well with the choir. There were, however, people practicing large puppets though, and the choir was amused because the person running the main body of the puppet could be seen underneath the puppet's robes and looked kind of like a giant butt. Bonnie's response to this was to shout "AND I THOUGHT MY BUTT WAS BIG!!!" The choir laughed. I said "Oh dear."
3. Claudia Hartz HAD NO IDEA WHO I WAS.
4. A woman with a disproportionate figure who stood in the front row and yelled things at everyone, including but not limited to:
"CHOIR DOWN IN FRONT!"
"_______, GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE AND SING WITH US!!!" (this happened several times)
"GOOD JOB, M'BOY!!!"
I think she had a mental disease or defect.
5. How many people were the same people I'd seen at my last Annual Conference my senior year of high school.
6. The bass that insisted on singing an octave lower than his actual pitches, although not really on any pitch at all...

I mean, I can't even blame this on anyone else. I decided to do it on my own. But, I mean...do I have a smell? This is ludicrous.

That brings this update to an end. Catch me later.