So. I am going to Indiana with my daughter this week to visit a friend of hers who just had surgery. I wasn't going to go because of school, but I caught up on all of my assignments and spring break starts next week anyway, so I figured heck, why not live a little? And then I found out that the friend lives an hour and forty five minutes north of Fairmount. Where James Dean is buried.
For those of you who don't know, I have been obsessed with James Dean for a good five years now. If I passed on this trip, it is very highly unlikely that the opportunity will come along again. And I would kill myself. Not really, but you know what I mean.