Single tear.

So, it's my last day at work, and my last day on campus in the foreseeable future. I mean, I guess I could just come and hang out on campus if I wanted to, but that would make me sort of creepy and sad, like Rob Lowe in St. Elmo's Fire. My friends and I used to come to campus once in awhile when we were in high school, just to hang out, and that was a little lame at the time, although also cute--we were so anxious for our future to begin. But after you've graduated, it's even more lame, and not cute. It suggests that you might be a sexual predator.

When my sister and I were kids we used to do that totally stereotypical thing of tottering around in my mom's high heels around the house. I feel like that today. I am wearing clacky, shiny pumps. I am wearing perfume, which is something I never used to do but have recently been experimenting with. In a job interview this morning, I sat still and looked composed and drank bottled water (provided) and answered questions with an off-putting combination of earnestness and cheeziness. I somehow was transformed into a grown-up, except I don't know how it happened or how I feel about it.

Although, I am wearing a vinyl wrist cuff with a picture of a 1960s woman on it, to remind me that I am young and hip. And I refuse to wear stockings, which is why my clacky shoes keep giving me blisters. Last week, for my last job interview, I wore knee-high socks with stars on them under my dress pants, and I hiked up my pants to show them to a friend I ran into in the library: "These are to remind me that I am not the kind of person who dresses like this."

Except I am, so maybe I am.