Straight Up, but not Paula Abdul's.

Once upon a blog, I said that I'll be damned if I wasn't typing my later blogs in Hudson Hall in Culinary Institute of America, NY.




Here I am.



As of this moment, I don't know what to feel. I should be ecstatic. I'm here, and I made it. On the other hand, I'm concerned about the condition of my mother who admitted that she was scared to go home by herself. Murphy's law, really. I feel like it's 2003 again where I shed a couple of tears when she left me, but I was good after the next day. I do believe though that with a little belief in the man upstairs in the form of prayer that she gets home safely, it'll happen and I'll have the time of my life here, as I already am before this thought came out of left field.



What I'm looking forward to the most in college is change by being away and having my beliefs tested and corrected by my colleauges. The irony in this is that the structure of beliefs that I've held in eighteen years (eighteen years, she got one of your kids, got him for eighteen years). Jokes aside, this belief structure will be tattered and tested by time, and rest assured that everything should be fine.



Now that I have taken out all this hi-lo (sounds like a laxative) out of my system, I'm thinking about skipping breakfast tomorrow because the flyer said it's optional.



And with that, I'm out.