~~I see myself warming myself after a cold hard day by slipping into a dark pub and nursing a pint of beer.

The big decision has been made ---> I'm going to Boston. The check's waiting in the mailbox for pick-up by the postman.

Boston's a really cool city. While I was there I couldn't help but stand in awe of the gorgeous skyline that outlined the cold, peach-hued sky. In my taxicab I drove by peaceful parks filled with residential Canadian geese, as plump as could be, congregating pondside.

The school NEWENCO itself is in an old colonial building replete with a circular staircase that passes four stories high and is set with a shiny crystal chandelier atop. On the northerly border of the building is a cold grey river, yet another reminder of the incessant cold that courses through the city's veins.

Sure the imagery sounds bleak but I can see myself having a blast over there. It's a total college town. Class at NEWENCO doesn't even start until 1pm, meaning I can party all -- err, I mean study all night and still get ample rest. Not to mention there are supposed to be some cool clubs to hit up (of course nothing compared to our hideouts in LA!) which makes sense because how else are people gonna stay warm?

If I'm lucky I'll be able to corrupt a few bonafide geniuses from MIT. ( ;

I can't believe I'm leaving California. Sure, there is the chance that Fullerton will realize the huge mistake they made and accept me already, but I can't put too much stock in something so uncertain. (By the way, I found out last night that SUNY also put me on a wait list. Foolish. What were thinking!?!?!? Big mistake, BIG mistake!!! )

My anxieties about leaving will only get worse as September fast approaches. I can go on and on about all the reasons I'm scared of leaving but it pretty much boils down to all the people I love that I'll have to say goodbye to in exchange for hellos to strange East-coast peoples with pasty complexions who will insist that my colloquial usage of the word "like" is far too frequent.

Most heartbreaking is that I'll have to leave my cat. He won't be able to understand why I've had to leave.

Poor Mojo - or is it poor me?

Maybe i should get a picture of him tatted on my back and -- wait! I already do. Maybe then I should get his name written in cursive below his image. Not that he'll be able to read it.