The end is the beginning is the end

All is well that ends well. Or so the line goes.

I guess this is the part of the story where I appropriate Ann Frank and tell you that "despite everything I still believe that..."” Well in my case, the lesson learned is that everything works out for the best. And by the way, yes, my cynical mind still believes that people are truly good at heart.

And although I pride myself on being original and inventive, this time it seems that only a cliche is appropriate. Especially in situations like this.

I guess everyone all saw this coming except for me. What better ending to the saga of the quarter-life crisis transcribed onto paper than the author, once again, landing on her feet. Despite her antics, and what seems like, lessons ignored.

I got into grad school.

And not just any grad school. I am off to Oxford, baby.

But my mother summed it up the best:

"“I have a daughter graduating from college tomorrow, my son is graduating the police academy next month, and my daughter just got into Oxford. I guess I did well as a parent."

I don'’t know what I am more proud of at this moment, the fact that my hard work and tenacity paid off or the pride that it is bringing to my parents-- their moment to see that they really didn't fuck up, their validation that they did a great job raising all four of us. Despite everything.

So, I beg your pardon, but in lieu of a proper blog post tonight, I am going to bed, riding out my buzz and nursing my cold, celebrating that I got into grad school.

And quitting my job in the next six weeks-- —so that I can write my book treatment.