Distraction, thy name is Pandora.com

One of the librarians just came up to me and said "20 hours." I instantly knew that by this she meant that I have about 20 more work hours left before I am completely done here. I heaved a massive sigh and continued to fill up my water bottle. But I felt a little sad. Which is totally strange and unexpected. A few coworkers have already said goodbye to me. There is a man who I typically only see at staff meetings, and sometimes we bump in to each other in the building. He is really sweet and friendly, and yesterday he apologized for not being able to come to my farewell lunch on Friday. He then said, "Have a really great life." And it was so sincere that it left me fumbling for false words to say that we would keep in touch. Of course we won't keep in touch. But to hear someone say 'have a nice life' and know that you will never see them again is very sad. It's a huge part of life, I suppose. And I should get used to it.

I have much to do between now and 4:30 on Friday. Pandora.com is not helping me get these things done any faster. First of all, it totally slows down the computer in my office. It makes my web browser freeze, and makes it impossible to multi-task with any bit of efficiency. On top of this technical roadblock, it's driving down my morale. Because it's making me realize just how terribly lame my taste in music is. For example, the station that I listen to the most is the one that I built to include music that sounds like Sara Bareilles, Ingrid Michaleson, and the Indigo Girls. I don't know who this Missy Higgins character is that keeps popping up, but I really like her as well. Show me a girl with a guitar/piano, that's all I really need. Sigh. I created some other stations to make myself feel better, but I don't even listen to them. My Ryan Adams station just sits there. Trust me, I would love to listen to you, Ryan. I'm just a little busy getting emo to sappy singer-songwriters that are pumping pure estrogen through my headphones.

People are moving out, everything is changing. I think that I will probably be poor for the rest of my life, and I came to terms with that during my walk to work this morning. After I spend some time scraping the bottom of the barrel and having wonderful adventures, then I will go to library school and become an administrator and make way too much money. Did you know that the higher-ups make big bucks? I'm talking 6 figures. So I think my plan is totally feasible and totally orginal - go off in to the world and travel until that gets old, then go back to school and then become outrageously wealthy.

I'm almost 23. I know that's not old. But I, personally, have never been that old before. Why does it feel like such a grown-up age to me? I remember being a little girl and thinking I would be married by 23. Ha. That's silly.