I really need to stop forgetting to write here. Soon enough, when I'm writing my autobiography, how the hell am I going to remember what was running through my catastrophic brain if I keep forgetting to write in here?
It is safe to assume that everything has changed. Probably for the better, but possibly not obviously so. I am too tired to re-hash everything that has happened since I last wrote, because everything under the sun has happened; i.e. an almost bear attack, one very large and very smashed armadillo, probably going native, sheer unpredictability, getting my ass kicked and my mind blown by nature and God's grace and beautiful people and...all of that jazz and then some.
But I'm in the beginning of my last year of undergrad and I could only preoccupy myself with home decorating so long before I realized that I am absolutely exhausted, unmistakably behind, repulsively entitled, and even a little apathetic. What the actual hell? This is not me. This is not the driven Becca Robinson that made such a smashing entrance into this university five years ago. Ah, that's the problem. It was five years ago, and I am a mover and a shaker, and I can't believe that I've stuck myself here for five years. I'm at the point in my career when I teach more than I attend class at the university. I no longer get butterflies when it is mentioned, off-handedly, that my thesis might result in a publication. I honestly have given up on being timely, being studious, and being a hermit crab. Sorry, professors, I didn't finish my reading because I keep falling asleep and I'm not going to kill myself over it.
It is not the time for burning out. It is time to get excited. My whole future is right around the corner, but the things just in front of that corner are getting to me. Perhaps I'm a little frightened, or, perhaps I've reached some sort of limit where the only thing saving me is the remote possibility that I might move to a National Park for a couple of months and just give star talks to little families on big road trips. That's what I really want. No, what I really want is my PhD, and funding for all of the ridiculous driving I do. So there are steps to be taken and things to be changed. Nothing that I can't handle. Not at all.
I'm probably going to keep my laptop on Colorado time. It makes me think that it isn't quite as late as it is. Strategies. Survival. All that rot.
Until next time, then.