boxes, boxes everywhere, and not a one is mine

In my head(phones): “Sometimes I feel like don’t have a partner. Sometimes I feel like my only friend is the city I live in, the city of angels. Lonely as I am, together we cry.”

So it’s Friday morning and my roommates are struggling to fulfill their wake-up calls to go pick up our wedding tuxedoes in (f#*@ing) Sugar Land. As if we didn’t have enough crap to worry about. But it’s all good, I’m sort of starting to feel ready for this weekend. Maybe that’s just morning rationale speaking, but it’s going to happen, so we might as well enjoy it.

Tried on the various pieces of regalia last night. Did they really need to make the robes so heavy? And I feel like the interchange between red Will Rice stole and blue/gray/white academic hood is a bit awkward. But at least we left pink to the music majors.

My family gets in this afternoon — both parents, my brother and my sister. I’m not really sure what to do with them. My parents have been here several times each, and my brother visited in December. And since I’m about to graduate, how much point is there really in showing my sister the campus or my room? So that leaves us to eat, explore the sites of Houston (hah!) and … uh, talk? Whatev. We can sit around the room amid various Jean family boxes and members, mixed in with the dare-I-say-formal Lewis family and a classic set of Asian parents. At least our liberal northeastern anti-Bush jokes won’t be completely lost on everybody. Ah, stereotypes.
Alright, the guys are ready to go and the nerves of my first blog have passed. Enjoy.