I survived my first week on house arrest- I mean at home. It’s gotten better though, in all seriousness. I am working like crazy, and classes start tomorrow so the chaos is guaranteed to continue. Good thing I thrive off of it, or at least don’t have time to cry about it when I am busy. I had yesterday and today off from designer territory, but I work every day for the rest of the week. I went and spent my days with my Canish-loves and I needed it. When I wasn’t a blubbering idiot, I did absolutely nothing. It was glorious. We watched the sports games (which I still don’t understand, but I don’t care) and I wore medium wash jeans instead of indigo -because %!*$ you Coach uniform.
I ate crappy food, and slept in an uncomfortable dorm bed. I gossiped until 3 am with my math major roommate and I never would have left the tunnel system if the Chapel for Sunday night mass wasn’t outside of the tunnel system. I lived on Sweet Tea with extra sugar and wore a Ralph Lauren baseball hat because I only dry shampooed my hair today. I was back at college and I absolutely loved it. I missed it so much, I can’t explain it. None of those uncomfortable or disgusting things about college in particular, just the combination with friends to die for is worth it. It’s only been a week, I’ve already broken down more times than I can count, and I doubt each time I visit it will become any easier. I have this feeling of vulnerability and displeasure. I have no choice though, I have roughly 107 more days until I am certified in Fashion Merchandising and my friends have approximately 15 weekends (I’m not counting spring break and Easter) to deal with me on. Thankfully, my friends sympathise and have not wished me away yet. My parents have given up on comforting me, but they let me take the fashion forward 2007 Grand Caravan to go to the mall pretty much whenever. I plan on coming back again this coming weekend to Canisius for a Philip Phillips concert, as long as Coach decides not to ruin my life and call me in to work. As I tweeted earlier, there are shopping carts accruing online, so I can’t wait for Wednesday night’s pay check to vanish into thin air.
Other festivities taking place in the Deutschman house? The remodeling of Jenna and my bedroom. It was a compromise renovation that I am starting to become pleased with, we’ll just see how many years after I am moved out of the house it takes to complete it. The black chandelier hangs from the ceiling above my bed reminding me I am not at Canisius any more, but I would rather cry surrounded by sparkle and lavender any how. We live in an 1890s Victorian house. The architecture and crown molding give it character, but there is a lack of closet space in my particular bedroom so we have a few things to work around during this process. I am hoping to find a cute little vanity, desk, and armoir for the room. Like some dorm rooms, we will have bunk beds.. but it beats sharing a Queen with my sister that breaths like Darth Vadar and kicks like the Karate Kid. I’ll have a full mattress to share with my stuffed bunny, just the way I like it. The rolling rack is present again, holding a surplus of winter cardigans and dresses. If you squint past the One Direction and Puppy posters, I clearly live in that room, but it’s not personalized like the cork board walls holding photos and memorabilia in a spotlight of the dim LED lighting of 117 Bosch. Staying at Canisius in my old bed and room without anything on the walls felt cold and depressing. I can only imagine how Rachel feels staring at something so starchy and sparkle-less. She talked about hiding a cat in the room, because nobody would notice.. And quite frankly? My half of the room with dinged up walls and faded oak furniture looks like the perfect atmosphere for a cat’s litter box.
The title of this blog post comes from Daylight by Maroon 5. I am addicted to the song for relatable reasons, obviously. No, there is not a prince charming I am missing at school that “I will have to slip away” from.. Lets not be delusional little preps.
It just was stuck in my head all last night, knowing “when the daylight comes, I’ll have to go”