Estoy in North Raleigh, your headquarters for cultural stimulation and characteristically unique happenings, and I'm an expert in sarcasm.

Revamp. That's what we're doing with this blog that used to be live from the tiny country the size of Wisconsin, minus the cornfields.


I'm stuck here in transition mode, you know, the state in life when one graduates from blue heaven on earth (If God is not a Tar Heel, then why is the sky Carolina blue?), moves home and continues the job search.


So, instead of moping around or brainstorming ways to take out a first-year student attending orientation (and then taking her clothes and wearing them so I can do the four years over again), it's time to reverse the sadness and negative Nancies jumpin' around in my brain and embrace the freedom.


No, I'm not in a gorgeous foreign country where I can entertain you, or rather make you jealous to the point where you close out your browser and eat some chocolate to lift your spirits. No, I'm not saving the world this summer, or sending you updates from my internship where I'm discovering new techniques for producing clean water in North Africa. But I am in North Raleigh, you know, where the suburbian babies who drop their ice cream always get seconds and North Hills is the place to go on Thursday nights if you want to hang out with inebriated underages or happy-to-off-work over-the-hills. This is my home, and these two months are part of life, so why not blog about it?