Yesterday was the last day of my spring semester, the last day of my junior year. This semester had honestly been kind of run of the mill. I enjoyed my classes, sure, but I just felt like I was going through the motions most of the time. By Thursday night, when every paper was written, (mostly) every book was read, I didnt't feel relieved. I didn't feel accomplished. I didn't feel all that excited, either. I felt like I had throughout most of the semester - content, with a tinge of residual stress. Yesterday morning, though, I woke up with this good feeling that sort of enveloped me the whole day. I dropped off my books at the library, I slid a final paper under my professor's office door, and I sat outside for a little while before my english lecture started, enjoying the breezy sunlight. After class, I strolled through campus with a good friend I hadn't spoken with in a while, but was hoping I'd run into before we parted ways for the summer. I got to work and hopefully made my boss a little less bummed out. He gave me the high five I was secretly hoping someone would give me upon revealing that I had finished the semester, and turned on the old boombox we have in the office, playing the Star Wars theme song as performed by an all female accordion orchestra. I found out I had to work a lot more than I thought I would be, that night and next week, but I was happy. My mother came up to Tarrytown and we met for dinner at Horsefeathers, a cool little restaurant that has a wall of authors painted inside, including Misters Vonnegut and Poe. I ordered the "pig out burger," the second most embarrassing thing to order on the menu, and some strawberry shortcake served in a wine glass. The poetry I heard at the event that night was so good it made me want to go home and rip up everything I've written, or just try harder, write harder, better. I'm hopeful for summer. I'm excited to work and travel and sleep and eat and watch television and craft and lay in grass.