June 2, 2006.

In a few hours, I'll be a college graduate.

Bachelor of Arts. Psychology. I wrote my capstone on prairie dog infanticide, and another on benzodiazepine abuse in the elderly. I finished my major in three terms, which is not to say that I finished college with any sort of efficiency. It's been six years since I first became a full-time college student.

I went from one of the country's smallest, most exclusive, most liberal colleges, to a large state supported research university that must accept all state residents.

I spent two years in the middle working. Marketing, formalwear. For profit- junior college admissions. If you think it's hard to convince someone to buy a tuxedo over the phone, try convincing them that they've been pre-accepted to a 'totally legitimate, fully semi-accredited institution of academie'.

Pre-accepted.

Balls.

I don't know how I feel about graduating from UMass. I don't know how I feel about going on to Northeastern. I know that there's a snobbish part of me that feels like Bennington shaped me more than UMass, and feels scammed that I spent equal time at each 'institution of academie', but will get a degree from the less prestigious one. There's also a rabid anti-snob part of me that wants to pretend that I sprang, fully formed, from the loins of a ship yard welder, sailed through public schools without interruption, put myself through college toiling in food service, where I spent my time working for affordable housing and drinking beer.

But I don't drink beer.

The truth is somewhere in the middle. My father did work in a shipyard when I was born. When I got to college for the first time, however, money was not a problem. By the time I was asked to leave the first college, money was a problem. Thus, public. Thus, toil. But without the generosity of my parents and boyfriend, I'd never be able to afford my lavish lifestyle including both protein and petroleum.

I don't feel like I fit anywhere. I chose my psychology degree because it only took twelve courses to complete. I have no real passion for the subject, but find it interesting enough to sustain the impression of hard work. I chose my university because they were obligated to overlook my academic problems at the previous college.

And now, law school.

I don't know where I will fit. I don't know if there will be the success I found at UMass, or the blind, struggling failure I found at Bennington. I'm not even sure I want to be a lawyer. But I want to be something. And I don't mind working incredibly hard to do it.

By the way, this will be my last serious post for a while.

Soon enough, there will be a return to posts full of swear words and irrational rage at people I don't know well.

Until then, Hobobarista will still be around. I don't cease to be a Barista until june 23.