The past few days, the last thing I've wanted to do is sleep. Typically, I loathe sleeping. I just don't enjoy lying in be, but it's been even worse lately. I'm not anxious. I'm not nervous. I'm not scared. Maybe I should be. I just don't feel tired.

35 hours and counting. I've got the following chores for tomorrow. Breakfast with my parents, a trip to the drug store, stop at the bank and packing everything I'm going to need for a year into two 80 lb. suitcases.

It's an interesting problem from a philosophical standpoint. How can I possibly be prepared for the next year? How can I possibly fit everything I'm going to need into two large cases? I don't think I can, but I have to try.

Things I wish I could take, but I'll have to leave behind.

My baseball glove. Life is always better when I can toss a baseball around.
My TV. Come on, I spent a freakin' ton on this set up and it gets to rot for a year.
My bed. Nothing will ever know you better than your own mattress.

The exact kind of thing I DON'T want on this blog is a message from me gushing over my friends and family and how much I'll miss them. I will miss them, but I know I'll see them all again on the long road back to middle.

This past week has been a lot of fun. I'm starting to become of the opinion that I should live every day like it was my last. I can't remember having a better time than I have during this last month.

Highlights include,

Snakes on A Plane while being 40 oz. to freedom. Stomping Rhea mercilessly at bowling. She still rocks, no matter what. Poker battles with my posse. Farewell BBQ, I wish I had more time to spend with everyone. Bobbleheads and sausage races in Milwaukee. There will always be a soft spot in my heart for that mediocre ballclub over the border and their incredibly slick throwback uni's. Powder blues with the ball and glove logo are classics.