Whenever I get hit on, and it's rare, my first reaction is to assume that it's a joke I don't get, or that I'm being made fun of. Once I get past that, I feel 10% flattered and 90% annoyed because I am just trying to be a person and you come along and make me laser-focused self-aware. Maybe it's the whole Groucho Marx wouldn't-want-to-belong-to-any-club-that-would-have-me-as-a-member thing.

Chris Rock does a bit where he says that white women don't need to own scales, they'll know when they're getting big when a disproportionate number of black guys start hitting on them.

Time to hit the gym, then?

When I was in high school I read about how nostalgia used to be the name for a medical condition, and that in olden old-timey times people were actually said to die from it. It's just the sort of thing that sixteen-year-old me would cling on to. When I moved in September, I ended up going through all my poems and journals from high school. Man, did I ever emote some emotions. "Your eyes are the trash-can fires curling smoke signals into the smog-pink urban sunset." YES, REALLY.

Oh, I'd like to think I'm heaps more ma-toor than I was then, but I'm still the same crybaby ball of feelings. I gained some perspective. I learned to separate hurt from pain. And sometimes, I learned, even the pain isn't really so bad. Daniel Johnston said, "Got a broken heart/and you can't break a broken heart." Like that.

Still, sometimes I wake up here smelling the lovely, dying leaves and I'm so steeped in nostalgia I can't move. Mandarin oranges in a Jell-O mold. A fly in amber.

Seriously, though, by what alchemy does Autumn smell exactly the same every year?

This is what the fountain outside the library looks like when you finally finish your paper.

It's funny how suffocating feelings of incompetence and dread show up to the party as soon as I have a bunch of beastly work to get done. I want to tap my brain on the shoulder and say, "Just because work isn't fun doesn't mean you have to flood my bloodstream with feelings. Sack up."

These feelings tend to spike at 11 p.m. and increase exponentially as each hour of the night passes.

Nice fountain, though.

INT. My house in Athens - mid morning

EVIE cracks the front door to find a disheveled-looking COLUMBUS standing there. There are dark circles under his eyes.

Evie: What are you doing here?
Columbus: I just... Can we talk?
Evie: This isn't really a good time.

Columbus: Please. Just..a couple minutes. I need to sort though some things.

Evie: Okay, okay, come in. But..being here is just going to upset you more.

Columbus: OU sweatshirt? Go team.
Evie,defensively, tugging at sweatshirt: What? Aw, c'mon, you know I like vintage-looking bullshit.
Columbus: No, it's cute. Um, very college.
Evie: Did you just come here to make fun of me?

Columbus, massaging temples: No, no, of course not. (looking around) This..this is what you want?

Evie: It's what I want right now. It's...easy here. Peaceful.

Columbus: So everytime life gets hard, you leave?

Evie: You're not being fair. I'm just..charmed, I guess. Athens recycles, you know? It's refreshing.

ATHENS, shirtless with messy bedhead, ambles down the stairs, scratching his bare stomach. ATHENS regards COLUMBUS and EVIE intensely exchanging words and pauses.

Athens, concerned: Is everything cool here, babe?

Evie: Yeah, we're just..talking.
Athens, to Columbus: You hungry, man? I was just gonna scramble up some frit-ta-taas with the eggs and peppers I picked up at the co-op.

Columbus: No, I just lost my appetite actually.

ATHENS leaves, enters kitchen.

Columbus, to Evie: Frit-taa-taas.

Evie: Stop.

Columbus: That guy is an asshole.

Evie: No, no, he's...uncomplicated.

Columbus: He's an asshole.

Evie: Look, I told you I needed space. Can we talk about this during the holidays? You shouldn't even be here.

Columbus: Yeah. Neither should you.

END SCENE

Here I am on my first day of 17th grade.

On my first day of kindergarten, my mom wanted to hold my hand and walk me to the bus stop and wait with me there. I said, "I'm in kindergarten now. I can do it all by myself," and started heading down the driveway. While I'm not as fearless as I was then, with my sailor dress and applique tote bag, I felt pretty level and self-assured today. I'm used to myself.

The most important lesson I learned today was outside of the classroom. Don't ever lose your car's keyless entry fob. Because they cost ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS to replace. It is especially devastating if you've just spent three hundred dollars on books. Ouch.