Trump V Bernie LIVE

I am moving to Washington DC in June. Holy shit. I am terrified.

Bringing the moment to its precipice

There comes a time in every woman's life when you need to pour your second glass of the bourbon you can't afford, put on your thinking pants, and write your god damned internship letter of intent.

My life is not my own

I feel like a cliche Prufrock. But no one here would even understand the reference. How did I stray so far? How did I become so estranged? I hate talking about veterinary medicine. I hate that it is now the only way I define myself. I wanted more than this.

What is my life?

This conversation could be the sole justification for getting the epitaph "I can't even" inscribed on my tombstone . Obviously everything in parentheses is just my internal monologue during the conversation. Although even my internal monologue had a hard time keeping up with the commentary during all this. This is my punishment for not having headphones in while in public. I will never make this mistake again.

Young man at Starbucks (named Aaron, as I eventually found out): can I share this outlet with you??
Me: yeah sure (please don't try to start a conversation. please. please. please.)
Aaron: where did you get that bumper sticker? (referring to a "Wonderful Wisconsin" sticker on my computer that has a sparkly loon on it)
Me: (fuck) oh at a gift shop up north (I'm at a Starbucks in Milwaukee)
Aaron: it is awesome
Me: thanks
Aaron: you are from Illinois? (I'm wearing an Illinois Vet Med sweatshirt- I won't make this mistake again either)
Me: yeah
Aaron: do you go to school there?
Me: yeah I'm in vet school
Aaron: so will you be a vet tech then?
Me: No, I'll be a veterinarian
Aaron: are you a vet tech now?
Me: No
Aaron: ah so how many years of school is that? (just shoot me now and get this over with)
Me: 4 after undergrad
Aaron: so 6?
Me:... No... 8 (?????)
Aaron: ohh. so is is it a masters degree?
Me: no. its a doctorate
Aaron: oh wow! so are you doing it online? (CNDKLFNSLKDJFNLIVSKLDFJS)
Me: No. I go to University of Illinois.
Aaron: what are you doing here?
Me: My boyfriend is interviewing for a job here and I came with and I'm just waiting for him
Aaron: are you guys getting married?
Me: uhhh I don't know? (how how how did we get here?)
Aaron: I mean is it the plan to get married?
Me: I guess?
Aaron: Do you mind if i ask how old you are?
Me:.... sure... 28
Aaron: Do you want kids?
Me: uhh... I really don't know (I'm saying this in a tone that says "seriously back the fuck off")
Aaron: I'm 23, so not even your age and I want to be married and have kids (is this real life?)
Me: cool, yeah I'm a little too busy for kids, I'm pushing that out as far as possible.
Aaron: but you have younger 28 year old genes now and you will only be able to pass them on while you are 28.
Me: ah. yeah. (genes don't age bro, just my eggs, but I really do appreciate the philosophical pseudoscience)
Aaron: can I tell you a story?
Me: sure (fuck my life)
Aaron: blah blah blah bible story about a guy with 12 kids talking to a king and the king says kids make you poor and the other guy says no kids make a poor man rich blah blah blah
Me: yeah having kids is definitely a personal decision; there is no right or wrong choice
Aaron: Is it a personal decision really though? We are biologically programmed to children. how long can we defy biology. It is much better to have people than to have things. (at this point my eyes can actually not roll any harder)
Me: ahh. yeah. I don't know. (I'm too poor to have things or people)
Aaron: I'll leave you alone, I've already taken up a lot of your time
Me: alright. thanks for the interesting perspective

Balance we won't know

I feel like I've kind of always come up from behind. I've never had a win in the bag from the first period. I always, without fail, end up in a shoot out.

"It will be fine, Audrey. You're always fine."

I don't feel fine.

On a seemingly unrelated note, I finally figured out that long distance never gets easier. You just try to solve the current problems before you're dealt a new set. You miss out on the quiet easy moments and try to make up for them with small short bursts of interaction. You feel like you're the one trying harder. He feels like he's the one trying harder. It is easy to say  you are good at communication when you're both on the same page. When the stress and exhaustion are palpable on both ends of the conversation, the empathy statements are slow to be said and even slower to be heard.

Late winter has never been easy for me.