before phd starts...

1. Consent form to landlord

2. 3 Deposits (drop off water in person, credit check on monday with electricity, talk to landlord about cable lease switching)

3. Need to get empty boxes for packing

4. Bring things down from attic

5. Pack what need/want to bring to new place

6. Seriously consider books/DVDs to be moved

7. Pick clothing for vacation

8. Stress about vacation in a myriad of ways, question your faith in humanity

9. Pick all the extra things to bring on vacation~

10. Buy present A (Hobby Lobby? Junkman's?)

11. Buy present B (peach stand, Petland)

12. Get eyebrows waxed

13. Get manicure

14. See main best friend

15. Think about seeing lady best friend (only if she calls you, you guess)

16. Pay UGA bill

17. See about when officially enrolled

18. Get those forms mailed to health insurance and loan people

19. Research more about Obama loan changes

20. Cry into hands about the failure of our economy at a prime time in your life

21. Figure out parking a bit more

22. Plan out orientation days

23. Buy some notebooks/pens

24. Start primping more

25. Get a haircut before getting busy into PhD

26. Make another list like this with assignments for class

27. Start learning Spanish...

28. Figure out budget/bills

29. Watch roommate dissolve under pressure, support her with vodka

30. Tweak thesis over and over

31. Write 5 lists about the top ten things you learned from each job this year

32. Continue to write snippets, don't pay attention to their flaws

33. Walk more

34. Work out at Ramsey with roommate

35. Drink as much fluid as you are now at work

36. Gain some weight. GAIN SOME WEIGHT.

37. Work out schedule with main best friend for his classes

38. Keep up weekly Globe visit with secondary male best friend (SMBF?)

39. Fire a gun...

40. See about sleeping more

41. Balance relationship with schoolwork

42. GAIN SOME WEIGHT

43. Get a kitten

44. Name that kitten

45. Walk that kitten on a leash

46. Finish this list of things you need to do in 2009...

falling man

Hand grabbing his shirt, yanking upwards, knife pressing against thin layers, black-brown eyes wide with anger and fear and a desire to run home. Some shuffling of feet, a dance he never thought he'd do. His fingers are gripping at the chest, dragging down as the knife jabs him again, trying to find skin. He's wearing gray, ragged gray; this other man is in dark blue, like the night. No sympathy, but nearly every other emotion, yes. He finds his hands tugging at the Union soldier's waistband as the knife finally gets up to his throat. A dangerous pause; a standstill suddenly.

Two young men in the woods, panting in fear and exhaustion and labor. The Confederate has his hands halfway down his foe's trousers, and the Union has the knife hot against his jugular. One of them is twitching, shoulders inching up, in wild anxiety. The other is all stiff, unable to move, only the tiniest bit of skin on the back of his neck rising in goosebumps. Death sits nearby, polishing some dead man's gun, waiting, waiting.

But the Union boy isn't ready for this, and he can feel warm fingers on his bare stomach. He moves the knife away and pushes hard against the Rebel's chest, sending him stumbling back across the crinkly, pale leaves. A second shove knocks the Confederate youth over a fallen branch, and he sprawls out on the ground, gray uniform against equally mild debris. The Union soldier steps back once, watching him, seeing him in that vulnerable pose. His hand shakes, the one with a knife in it. He could fight here, and kill here, so easily...

His feet turn, and he's moving away, stumbling without even being touched. His camp wasn't too far away, and he hopes, darkly, dumbly, confusingly, that the Rebel leaves the area.

Behind him, the Confederate touches his throat, a line of blood weeping down his neck. He can't say a thing, even though he knows they speak the same language, were once of the same people. The Rebel only stands when the Union boy is over the ridge and dips out of view. He walks away slowly... he's not sure what he wants and thinks for the smallest of small moments that he could have... would have... should have pressed more against the Union soldier.

He shakes his head and is gone off the field of one battle and into another as his mind begins its own, terrible, new war.