Judgment, judging... June.

Saturday morning, sitting amongst a room full of 4^th graders and their families, still reeling from the shots (yes, multiple – who in their right mind, over the age of 21 even does ONE shot let alone two?) of whiskey from the night before, the word of the day flashes up on the front screen: Judgment. Oh, judgment; I know judgment. I’m from the greater NYC metro area, a born and bred Northeasterner. I learned to judge before I learned how to walk. So, yes, let me tell you about judgment, kids. Passing judgment? I’ve got it in the bag. You poke along at or under the speed limit on the interstate? Judging. You're wearing Uggs and it's July (or any month, for that matter)? Pshht, I’m still judging. You don’t know the difference between pinot noir and pinot grigio? I am SO totally judging you right now. And, don't even get me started on bad judgment. My god, where to begin? It’s practically become the story of my life in 2011. Let’s start with the fact that I’m writing this and simply ignoring the entire book that I've effectively failed to read for tomorrow’s class. So, yeah, gather ‘round.

The past couple of months, despite a severe onset of senioritis and at times regrettable lapses in both maturity and foresight, have had many a moment of absolute delight. Let’s examine spring break as one prime example, shall we? A few close friends and I came up with the brilliant idea of roadtripping down to San Francisco and back. And let me tell you, it was both ingenious and perfectly executed. The five day venture was, perhaps, the most enjoyable vacation that I have yet to take in my adult life. Trip highlights include: four fabulous folks, one Dodge Charger (this is an enormous vehicle that, thanks to a questionable reaction to dramamine and good timing, I didn't have to drive all too often), 16 straight hours of driving through the night (battling both monsoon and blizzard), Napa Valley (photo), hot tubs and wine, San Francisco site seeing, the California and Oregon coasts (photo), the Redwood Forest, ridiculously unrepeatable conversations, more hot tubs, and more wine. I will save the details (believe me, I could go on for days) but, in short, it was sheer bliss.

Eeks. June 12th. There now remains only 6 weeks between my current carefree (both intellectually cumbersome and stimulating) graduate student existence and being unwillingly flung back out into semi-functioning adulthood. With friends now deciding what lays ahead for them and knowing that very soon many of us will part ways, returning to our respective regions of the US, I'm already getting nostalgic. Clearly, I'm going to have to get on this bandwagon and figure out what the heck I plan to do after graduation as well. In the meantime, however, I'm content with continuing to overlook the many opportunities I have (and have had) to employ good judgment and stay the course of these previous (and hopefully forthcoming) months of ridiculous carousing.