No place like home...

Apparently all the promises of updating my blog on a semi-regular basis were worth "diddly-squat" because this is the second time I that went for a month in between posts. I blame it on my frantic life the last few weeks. O well, better late then never.

Finals ended yesterday, and I could not be more relieved. Honestly, I was ready for the semester to be over half way through September (which is never a good sign). It's hard for me to stay motivated when all of my classes are general requirements, have nothing to go with my major, and aren't extremely fascinating in the first place. Don't get me wrong, I love learning new things (it makes me feel accomplished), but there are days when I'd much rather stay in bed. At the beginning of finals, my roommate and I were discussing how attitudes change as the semester progresses. At the beginning, everyone is gun-ho, has a great attitude, and constantly talks about how this is going to be their best semester yet; they'll work hard and get +100% in all their classes. By the end of the semester, however, you see students, all of whom have dark circles under their eyes, walking across campus with their heads down and arms overflowing with thick textbooks (and I swear I saw one guy actually crying). The motto of choice among students changes from "I'm going to do my absolute best" to "I just want to pass the class and get it over and done with." College just does that to you I guess. Anyways, like I said before, I'm glad that finals are over, but I can't stop worrying about how I did and whether or not I'll get a satisfactory grade. I keep reviewing the week's assignments in my head (two tests and four papers which collectively equaled a total of thirty-five pages) and obsessing over what I could have and should have done differently to improve my scores. It's a good thing that I'm now home and have family to distract me.

The drive home was pretty exciting as well. My sister, Kassie, and her husband are moving to Seattle over the Christmas break, so I drove with her from Utah to Washington. It's been snowing in both states (and pretty much every state in between) the last few days, however, so my mom convinced my dad to fly to Utah and drive with my sister and myself back home (the poor guy ended up driving us the whole way despite our intention to switch off). We left Friday around one in the afternoon and made it home around two in the afternoon on Saturday. Luckily, the roads weren't too bad (despite the snow) and we thoroughly enjoyed our time together. Before we realized Dad would be joining us, Kassie and I had made plans to listen to music and sing along the whole way home. Not willing to part from the original plan, we simply informed Dad that he would have to put up with it. So, while driving through the mountain passes, we listened to the Carpenters, Christmas in the Northwest, and various Muse songs. Dad was such a trooper, and I secretly think he enjoyed it. I even got him to sing along with me and Kassie on a few Elvis songs. When we weren't listening to/singing along with music, Kassie read John Grisham's "The Summons" out loud to Dad and a sometimes conscious Karma (Kassie has a very soothing voice). I recommend it to anyone looking for a good book.

Anyways, I apologize for verbally vomiting all over the page. It really is amazing how therapeutic blogging is. I really should do it more often. Anyways, the long anticipated moral of the story is simply this: "It's good to be home."