Journey Along A Pew-Lined Aisle to the Center of the Mind

You know when your subconscious likes to manifest your concerns and insecurites? It really can suck many unsavory things.

Last night I had a wedding dream. I'll keep it in the "dream" category rather than the "nightmare" category because there were no truly dangerous or utterly horrifying aspects, just things that would really piss me off in real life. Firstly, the ceremony was being held at a church - and not even a Baptist or Catholic church (either of which would make some sense, if we were having a church wedding), but a Lutheran church (from what I could scrape together from my own experience with Lutherans). Secondly, the place was packed. Friends, family, extended family two or three times removed, and even complete strangers were filling the aisles. Thirdly, I looked down to find that I was wearing a dress that I wouldn't ever pick for myself. Before I could be fully stressed about my wardrobe situation, the wedding march started to play. The wedding march is not on my list of music for the ceremony, but for whatever reason, I made my way awkwardly to the front of the church. About halfway to my destination I realized that Dennis was MIA, so I detoured to the nearest familiar face to start freaking out. A short while later he shows up, wearing a t-shirt, stained jeans, and a hoodie, like he had just come from work. I threw in the towel right then, postponing the ceremony until it could be done right. Dennis and I managed to get away from the horde of guests, but then some chick (whom it appears Dennis had dated years ago) shows up and basically tries to molest him right in front of me, despite objections from both of us.

It doesn't take a degree in psychology to recognize that this was just an extreme projection of almost everything I don't want to happen at my wedding, but going through the experience was still somewhat stressful (at least while I was asleep). Next time I'll probably post some insight into societal views (or at least the portion of society that could give a crap) on marrying at a "young" age.

What I Did Over Summer Vacation, Volume 21

Someone asked me the other day, what I had been doing since the end of spring semester. I paused. What had I done with those warm, education-free months?
Well, I changed my major after I got my studio grade back. One visit to Starkville.
I sat on my butt at home for a month while I filled out over a dozen applications and waited for any responses. Finally went back to $6.50 an hour at a job that is either hot, boring, or ridiculously frustrating, with one boss I absolutely cannot stand. The other one is okay.
I chatted up my boyfriend via AIM every day, reminding him that his bills were due and bugging him about telling his parents that he was planning on marrying me.
I had my wisdom teeth removed, so I'm missing a couple of days ...
I stayed up until 3 a.m. (on several occasions) talking to Miki while she was supposed to be doing work in India.
I spent too much of my money on clothes. But I can now dress like an adult on a more regular basis! Be excited.
I convinced Harry (yes, I'm calling Adri's cat by his real name) that I will not eat him, nor will my skin secrete acid.
And I cleaned out my car. No more ants. Hoolay!

When the outcome fails to meet the expectations ...

Sophomore year is over. Okay, technically I stopped being a sophomore at Christmas, so I'm halfway through junior classification. Fantastic. In an ideal world, I'd be three semesters away from graduating, but you know what? It's not an ideal world.
I knew from the beginning that architecture was a demanding major, but I truly believed I could do well (or at least okay). How naive of me. Two years later I've come home completely disenchanted with studio culture. I'm not stupid, I never missed class, all my work was turned in on time ... but there was no reward at the finish line.
So?
So ... I've decided I don't want to do architecture - building, designing, drafting - anymore.
No more putting in 40 hours of work for one class every week without due recognition, no more explaining weird purchases at Lowe's, no more using the word "spatial."
But now that I know what I don't want to do, I need to figure out what I do want to do. At the moment, history seems to be the most attractive candidate, perhaps in combination with communications or education or ... something. The good news: I've already completed 27 hours of the core curriculum for a history major, so it's not like I'm starting from scratch. If I overload a little or take summer courses, I can get out in three years or less.
So that's my life-altering decision of the day. I get to rejoin the world of the living.