pacific standard.

I have come to realize that I despise the Pacific Standard Time Zone. It is almost 8 o clock here, but my lucky brethren on the East Coast have 11 pm! What the fuck! I want to go to bed, son! And I know what you're thinking... if you want to go to bed, go to bed, Liz. Well, I tried that, smartass. If I go to bed at 9:30, I will have really awkward sleep patterns, nightsweats, and bad dreams. Tonight I have to make myself last til 11 - which is 2 am in New York and Pennsylvania, where all the important people live! Jon will maybe be awake that late, but I mean, I don't know, and do I really want to interrupt his last night of college drinking? (As I text him...)

So far, being home is pretty boring, but I am also pretty sure that I have lost some weight, which is cool. The job market is a fucking bitch and I don't really know if I will get a job, to be perfectly honest, though I am hoping I get just one fucking call. I will work ANYWHERE.

There was a weird fucking party last week that I ended up at with a girl I've known since I was 4, though we didn't go to the same high school, and randomly, a bunch of kids who actually did go to my high school but never talked to me were there. It was weird because they hardcore hit on my friend, talked to me like we were buddies, and were actually nice. It was also weird because one of them apologized for being a douchebag in high school (which he kinda was, but it's not like I was losing any sleep over it), and the other one told me he thought I was so mellow in class I must have been a huge stoner, only for me to inform him that I was probably buzzed on my Special Coffee. A rando kid told me about how his parents were really rich and walked me home and kissed me for about a nanosecond, mostly because my friend had turned him down (and slapped him). I actually had an entourage of 4 drunk people walking me home, passing a bottle of Jaeger: that rando kid, an ex male cheerleader from my school who apparently will "hook up with anything with a pulse," a girl he was trying to score with, and the nice kid from my high school whose 21st birthday it was.

But yeah so I've been hanging out with that girl a lot and I had lunch with my best girl today, who is leaving me for Boston and then Paris until July, and that was nice. If I can find a motherfucking job, maybe I will survive.

Cool thing: I ended up apparently doing really well on the last essay for my writing class, and my professor put it in the stack for consideration by way of committee for this book NYU puts out every year called Mercer Street, which is essentially the "good" essays for a particular year written by the students and then they make next year's freshmen read them in their required writing class. Pretty cool, I guess. I don't know if mine is in or not, but at least I know I got an A in that class.