The Raisin Enigma

I have a thousand things I want to write about, and all I can do is stuff my face with raisins and get sticky all over the keys. Why aren't green raisins as popular as purple kind? Is it because they look weird? And why do they have a picture of green grapes on the front of the purple box? How, exactly, are raisins made? Or are they "maid," by that brunette with the red bonnet gathering (green) grapes above the NET WT. 24 OZ. label?

After two years of college, I think insatiable curiousity is what I've learned. I already can't remember who Aeshcylus is or how to spell his name-but I do know I've spent the past few days of vacation doing nothing but reading. I guess this is how adults have fun? Through these four semesters, I've learned a whole lot about myself, my strengths and weaknesses-they seem so obvious to me now it seems impossible that I didn't know them for always.
When I went to college, my family gave me a pile of great advice: Eric, "If you come home to visit and sleep past nine I will not tolerate it" and Cam, "Don't eat too much cereal." My dad: "The greatest learning you'll do will be outside of the classroom." I didn't get it. I thought I did. I was so wide-eyed and ready to experience the world, I knew I'd discover myself and everything there is to know in the course of a couple semesters. I was in no way prepared for what was to come. I have to stop and stand in awe at all I've learned, yes, outside the classroom. There was learning to love a psycho roommate to letting go of nostalgia, figuring out what a theme is to figuring out what marriage is. A host of other things that filled a whole journal from August 2007-April 2009.

My brother is coming home in approximately 49 days.
When he and I last saw each other, I hadn't even graduated from high school yet.
Now I'm some big-shot college girl with shorter hair, more concrete desires, and stronger emotions? And he's some humbled missionary with hair way too short, unparalleled experiences, and who knows what else? I know we'll slip right back into us like we were before-I think we had to all grow separately, so we can grow together when he comes back.
It's all so unreal to me. Mostly, I have no idea who this person is that sends me one-liner emails and funny English T-shirts from Japan. My best friends in the world have never met him. It's hard to remember that I have. That we've spent seventeen years of life together. How can that be so easily blurred in a mere two years? Same way green grapes turn purple when they become raisins, I guess.
Like, will we still stay up late rewinding our favorite parts of My Best Friend's Wedding over and over, giggling harder every time? Will he still throw up his hands and say "Get over it!" when I ask him for boy advice? Will I still be able to read his eyes and know what he's upset about? Probably, I think. I sure do love him just as much.

I'm babbling, and tangenting. Sorry about that. I guess that curiousity extends to questions about my own self, too.