I am sure there are people out there who will read this column and have absolutely no idea what I'm describing.
Usually, I am not one for making predic-tions, as I have learned by now that my predictive power about equals that of Miss Cleo.
I am the first to admit that I am not the type of person you could accurately refer to as "intellectually curious." This is not to say that I am without interests.
I know people -- good, solid people -- who tend to turn to very adult courses of action when they feel the need for a little perspective in their lives.
After recently surveying the bleak, empty contents of my wallet, a wallet that was filled to the brim with 200 dollars a mere three days ago, I came to terms with the fact that I am not what you would call a financial wizard. I would like to write this off as being a genetic problem, since my Dad's concept of keeping track of his money consists solely of crumpling bills of all denominations together and shoving them in his pants pockets for later use, but I cannot.
These days, I am not in the habit of giving people advice. This is mostly because no one asks me for advice anymore because I am possibly the worst problem solver in the history of time.
Recently, I took a little jaunt from my refrigerator-box sized studio apartment in Manhattan to Charlottesville to celebrate my 21st birthday (an event which certainly did not result in me falling into the coin fountain at Coupes) and move into my new apartment.For every year I have been at the University, I have lived in a different location and finally, for the first time, I have made a move up the housing hierarchy.
Last summer, I thought I had set an all-time record for "summer job least suited to my personal talents, interests and skills" by taking a ritzy babysitting job, during which I catered to the demands of four-year-old yuppies wearing miniature ascots (I have since decided that I will not reproduce, thanks) and their horrifying parents who demanded that their little brat only be given organic soy chocolate milk and kept indoors at all times. Please.
If college thus far has taught me anything, it is that the passage of time is a pretty strange thing.
Traveling the two hours into the glossy metropolis that is Washington, D.C. is always slightly strange to me.
