A couple weeks ago I was accepted as a contestant for the Miss Illinois USA pageant. Now, the question is…do I do it or not? The consensus so far has been a unanimous yes and the adventurous part of me is screaming “DO IT!”, but the sensible me keeps reminding me that A) I’m super busy now with my 55-hour work schedule, and B) Shit’s expensive. You gotta come up with more than $1000 in sponsorship money, plus provide your own wardrobe. My brothers also like to point out that I’m so not a girly girl, and would probably implode after being surrounded by a gaggle of girls for an entire weekend. I have to make a decision soon, though. Registration deadline’s coming up.
In other news, my life appears to have settled into a routine at last. After years of shuffling around, hanging out with different circles and basically not giving a shit about anything except having fun, my life has become work-work-work-rest-work-drink. So is this what they mean by adult life? I guess I could get used to this. I kind of feel more respected now that I’m a college graduate and finally working. I also definitely understand more now why people feel the need to party on the weekends. Last Friday, after working the entire day at my two different jobs, my friend called me up and basically said to get ready because we were going clubbing. Tired as I was, the idea of knocking back a few beers and dancing my ass off was just simply way too enticing. And that was what we did. It was therapeutic, really.
Today is also the tenth anniversary of the events of September 11, 2001. Ten years ago I was a 7th grader sitting in history class when the principal came in to tell our teacher the shocking news. Amazing how much our society, and the world, really, has changed since then. I wish I had more patriotic things to say, but seeing as how I am so not patriotic at all, I guess I only want to repeat one of the many inspiring phrases floating around today: It’s not how many times you fall that matters, it’s how many times you get back up.