I lament the end of my vacation.

After scoring the most gargantuan paycheck ever in my young life, I decided to cash out all of my banked vacation days and enjoy a week of no obligation bliss. Much was accomplished in that small week: I attended two concerts (Tom Petty and Brad Paisely, in case you were interested), got superbly drunk, met an entire flock of new friends, and cemented a romantic relationship with an individual who I secretly loathe. Come Sunday, the first day I was supposed to go back to counting pills and feuding with insurance companies, I decided to upgrade my vacation and call off.

Now it's Monday, and I regret to apprise readers that it wasn't until the latter end of my vacation that I decided to do anything mentally stimulating. Last night I picked up a Steven King book, and got fully absorbed in its components. While I embrace this summer as one where I challenged myself socially, I sort of regret neglecting my intellectual appetite for so long.

Partying is somewhat of a default for college aged kids. I, however, never got heavily absorbed in partying, and instead focused solely on school work, poems, and financial knowledge. Because of that, I was weird. A freaking deviant. People couldn't understand why I opted for text books over kegs, TS Elliot over sloppy one night stands.

Once, while talking to a fellow '07 graduate, he insisted I never fully opened up to him, and that surely there must be more to my interests than reading Kurt Vonnegut and extrapolating meaning from The World is Too Much With Us. At the time, though, there was nothing that excited me more. I was drunk off of metaphysical conceits. I practically felt the swell of my brain each night before I went to bed. With so much new knowledge under my belt, I was on top of the world. Or so I thought.

This summer I decided to embrace the seemingly empty world of partying. I reasoned that it would get me a sufficient fix, and prevent me from having any desire to go out during school when I couldn't afford it. And so began my journey of intense partying. I became masterful at the game of beer pong. I started to call my girl friends "girl" and participating in girly rights that last semester would have made me gag. I lived it up, so to speak, and my dad cautioned that this summer would be one I would "remember for the rest of my life."

Now, with thirty minutes until I'm forced to clock in at the Pharmacy, I realize how much I miss structure. It was nice to be crazy and wild for a while, but I have an uncontrollable urge to balance my check book, figure out all my financial aid, and read a mentally stimulating book.

I think i've mostly figured out who I am by now, but now I'm left with the question on how to apply it.

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