So, I got my ears pierced yesterday.

Mom and I went to the Valley Plaza to return some things and as we were walking she stopped in front of one of those piercing kiosks and said she was going to get her ear pierced (yes, only one ear as the other whole hadn't closed up since she stopped wearing earrings) and somehow she convinced me to do it as well. I really wanted pierced ears when I was a kid and I was told that when I turned 12 I could get it done. Obviously it didn't happen. I was a bit afraid and since my ears are small and close to my head anyway I didn't think it made much of a difference. After a while I liked that I didn't have piercings. It was always a surprise to people when they noticed or when I mentioned it. And now here I am. It feels kind of weird to get it done in adulthood. It's like I missed out on a rite of passage, but I seem to be missing all of the normal milestones so that's how it goes.

• I'm moving back to Bakersfield. Not sure if I'm happy about that or not.
• I got an A in my Composition and Literature class after writing my final on how Hamlet and Horatio were probably hooking up between the scenes.
• Got an A in Intermediate GIS. Of course.
• Almost died fifty times driving home from the pub my Sustainability class went to after the final on Tuesday. It was thirty miles to my house, all downhill, it was pouring rain, the roads were completely inundated with water and I was constantly on the verge of losing control of my car. I finally saw another car spin out and drive up a mountain and that's I decided that I should probably take surface streets the rest of the way to my house. That is, after I stopped to make sure the people who spun out were okay. They were. It was, hands down, the most terrified I have ever been in my life.

When I was in the first grade I was told I had bad handwriting. I had to do all of these stupid handwriting exercises whenever I had free time (which was a lot, because even though I was in a combo 1st/2nd class and I did all the 2nd grade work, I was still done way before other kids). Ever since then I've been convinced that I had bad handwriting. But I don't, really, it's just still in my head.

The point of this anecdote is that I'm trying to let things go. I'm trying to release my baggage into the wild. And it's really fucking hard.