Poor little Jakie died yesterday.  

We found out that he had cancer like two weeks ago.  We had been expecting that Joey didn't have much time left because he's been sick for a long time, but not Jake.  Jake never acted sick...we had no idea.

But he's gone now.  Poor little puppy.

I'm so excited to go home.
I'm sure after two weeks at home I'll be crying for my LA life, but right now I'm so pumped to go home.
Even now, I hate the idea of leaving, but I miss my friends and family and not having anything to do.
Also, this Christmas break is going to be extra special because I'm going to get to know my dad.
I recently read an article devoted to my aunt's successful career as an NYC litigator, and I learned a lot about her career journey and a few other random things that I never knew--like my great grandfather was an engineer that graduated from MIT. (if you're intrigued, here is the link Susan Millington Campbell--Super Lawyers)
And it got me thinking that I don't know much about my family.  I feel like I know a lot about Lucia and her childhood and life before me and such, but I know nearly nothing about my dad.
I have a few solid things that I know about him, like the fact that he loves the opera scene in Philadelphia (it even makes him cry) and...I literally don't know if I can come up with something else that isn't super generic like he loves Chevy Chase movies and making beer.  So anyways, I don't know much.
And I want to.
I hear stories of fathers giving advice and guiding their kids through life, and I want to extract some of that wisdom from him.  I only remember clearly a few times where my dad gave me advice: when Monica died and when I was considering transferring colleges my sophomore year.
When I came home this last May after Monica died, I hadn't talked to my parents about it at all.  I had sent a Facebook message to them so that they were aware, but told them I didn't want to talk about it or answer any questions.  So we didn't.
But when I came home my dad came into the laundry room when I was putting clothes in the washer and stood there waiting for me to acknowledge him.  I remember him saying 'So you had a difficult semester.  You just gotta keep going.  Stop crying and keep going.  That's life.'
I remember being super pissed like wow dad, how sensitive.  But he was right.  That's life.
And then back when I was a sophomore, I remember we were driving somewhere and talking about what I wanted to do with my life, what my plan was.  I was nervous about telling him that I wanted to make movies, because my sister was in the middle of starving in Nashville trying to be a singer.  I wanted to be the one with the clear, established future.  But alas, I am in love with movies.  So I nervously told him, and immediately followed it with 'but I'm not sure, we'll see.'
But I remember him making a face and saying "Nah, nahh, you want to do the movie stuff, right?  Then that's what you gotta do."
So that's where I am.
So anywho, I'm super excited about this break.  I've already called him and told him all about my plan.  I think he thinks it's kinda presh (in his words of course).
We've already made plans to visit this bar in Philadelphia that he used to go to a lot in college.  I love stuff like that.  I love places that have so many stories.  The lives of my parents are just gold mines for stories...I'm excited to hear them.  Maybe I can re-tell them in a movie someday.
So anyways, that's what I'm chewing on on this Wednesday evening in my apartment in LA.
Now I'm going to continue my script that is so so so so far from being finished (and due Sunday).
Goodnight, friends!

So I see the same 33 people pretty much every day.
We all have class together, share the same library, movies, classrooms, computers.
So, when one of us gets sick...we all get sick.
My professor came down with 'food poisoning' last Tuesday, and my roommate had the same this weekend.
Well, friends, tis not food poisoning.
Because now my other roommate and I are home sick with what must be the most violent stomach flu ever.
This is day two, which has been monumentally better than day one.
But still sucks.  I haven't eaten anything since Sunday and am just now being able to keep fluids down.
It's also unfortunate because this is my last week of my internship.  I'm hoping I can make it in tomorrow.
Bleh.

So today I'm at work and my mom calls in the middle of the afternoon.
Weird.
She knows that I'm at work till a certain time and that I can't answer my phone.
Yet, she calls.
So I text her and ask if everything's okay.
And I don't get a response.
And I'm thinking someone has died for sure.
Someone is in the hospital or dead or something.
So I'm nearly panicking when she texts me back.
Jake has cancer.
My first thought: Ahh (relief), just the dogs.
My second thought: Wait, Jake has cancer?
My mom texts me again, saying that the dogs went to the vet yesterday and found out Jake has like a month left to live, and Joey's been on the decline for a while.
And then I cried.  It's so dumb, but I cried.
So I'm at work, sitting in the bathroom, crying.
Because my dogs are dying.
Like, what?
It sounds so dumb to me.  Like, they're just dogs.
But even as I write this it's hard not to get emotional.
Because I feel like my family member just found out that he has a month to live.
And I'm suddenly realizing that my dogs, who I've had since I was in second grade, are going to die soon.
And I love my dogs.
We knew that Joey was going to die soon, he's been sick for a long time and he's like 14 years old.  But not Jake.  Jake has never stopped being spunky and annoying since we brought him home.  He's 12, but still acts like a puppy.
And it's so dumb but the death of my pets feels consistent with the death of a friend.
It sounds so bizarre to me, but that's how it feels.
I remember sitting on my steps in my first house in Jersey when I was eight years old and telling Joey that he was my best friend.  I think every kid does that.
I grew up with them.  It's weird to think about.
So that's where my head is.
My poor puppies.  I don't know if I'll ever see them again.

Every once and a while I turn up my air conditioning really high and get snuggled up with tea and wool socks and a big sweatshirt (mostly Seth's sweatshirt) and pretend I'm back at Gordon waiting for my friends to come over and watch a movie.
I really miss New England.
I love LA, love the weather, love all of it, but I can't help but get weirded out by the fact that it's November 10th and I'm still wearing flip flops and sun dresses.
I dreamt of snow the other night.  I woke up to 80 degree weather.
As much as I don't want to leave, I am excited to go back to the east, if only for a while.

I almost can't believe it, but it's time for a countdown.

Days Till:

Laura comes to LA: 3
Sarah comes to LA: 12
Thanksgiving: 18
All assignements are due: 11
Last Day of my Internship: 15
Final Banquet: 24
Stephanie comes: 25
Leave for NJ: 26
Go to MI: 40
Christmas Eve: 44
Go to NYC: 48

Time is going so quickly.

It's weird that we don't talk to people we don't know.
I know that 'stranger danger' has its validity to an extent, but it's weird to me that I treat nearly everyone I haven't met as a stranger with potential danger.
Maybe I've lived in too many cities.  Maybe I watch too much SVU.
I'm sitting in a cozy Starbucks down the street from my apartment complex, and I'm not talking to anyone.  I look around and it's pretty empty at 7:51pm aside from about seven twenty-somethings.  It's like we're all in the cozy living room drinking coffee and not talking to each other.
What if we treated cafes like we did parties?  Entering and introducing ourselves.  Sitting with people for a bit before continuing on with our work or whatever it is we set out to do here.
I've never really felt the urge to chat up patrons at a coffee shop, but right now I just feel so weird that I'm sitting so close to a group of people my age and we're ignoring each other.  They see me.  I see them.  This Starbucks looks like someone's living room.
So why aren't we talking?
It's weird, I guess.  It's unusual and probably annoying if I were to pull up a chair and introduce myself to these people.
It's just bothering me.  The whole social construct.
Why don't we talk to people we don't know?  Where did this rule come from?
I hate it.  Part of me doesn't want to enable such a stupid construct, but part of me doesn't want to be that awkward girl.  And I hate that I care about being awkward because it's just so dumb.  My friends were strangers before they were friends.
Argh.  Rants.