Of course I don't hate my sister. I'm not crazy about babies, and she screams more than the average infant, but I've never hated her. She's a child. She can't help that she screams. And she IS my family, and she's only going to grow up once.
Just because I haven't forgiven my mom doesn't mean I'm not close to her. She's one of my best friends. Sometimes things aren't black and white.

I'm not expecting everyone to stay in one place forever; I don't think that moving back to California is going to magically surround me with a perfect circle of close friends who will dote on me and serve me grapes while fanning me with palm fronds. But most of the people I know and love are west coast people, and it makes sense to be closer to those people. I fucking hate Connecticut. The east coast is NOT my thing. People here are different, and I miss the sun.

I wasn't looking for someone to make a decision for me. This post wasn't a call for "please tell me what to do with my life." It was a "I'm confused and would like to sort things out in print" post. If you'd actually read it, you would have noticed that I implied rather strongly that I'm not going to drop out of Yale, at least not without an actual plan of some sort. I'm not stupid. I'm not going to throw away Yale for no reason. It took a shitload of hard work to get here, and that's not something I take lightly. The next sixty years aren't something I take lightly, either, and I'm not sure I want to spend them with my hands in a fume hood. That's what this post is about.