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So. Yesterday was technically a holiday, so we didn't go to work. The courts were closed and mail service shut down, both of which manage to be vital to a law office, so I stayed home. Alone. Watching dorky videos on YouTube, reading Logan's X-Men comics, reading other X-Men related randomness, attempting to work on any novel that was still on good terms with my muse (I think she's on strike) and attempting to not have a panic attack about grad school.
I was brave yesterday. After battling it out with my iPod for what seemed to be an interminable amount of time I got on the internet and checked out when Grad applications are due. Some are due sooner than I thought. K'so. Nothing to be done about that other than let the dread curl in my stomach, face a round of the dry heaves, and then get those applications in.
Oh yes. I must also beg for letters from my professors. Great.
Every time I try to face down prepping for grad school my brain goes into a tailspin. Not very encouraging. I think it's Brad-of-the-gun getting back at me because I'm my own taskmaster at work, and damned good at it too. Why? Why is it like this? I would ask Del and Rae what's up with that, but neither of them have applied for Grad school yet. Maybe I should ask Erin. Maybe we can swap stories about the psychological damage caused by attempting to sort out our futures.
At this juncture all I really can do is attempt.
Sick with dread. Grad school. Aaargh!
I'm gonna have dinner with Shaz tonight, and maybe we'll go see a movie. She's a hardcore Rocky fan, so we might go see that. Whatever. I need a chance to zone out.
Unless the Scooby girls were gonna get their steampunk on?
As you can see, my mind is unweaving. Go me.
I was brave yesterday. After battling it out with my iPod for what seemed to be an interminable amount of time I got on the internet and checked out when Grad applications are due. Some are due sooner than I thought. K'so. Nothing to be done about that other than let the dread curl in my stomach, face a round of the dry heaves, and then get those applications in.
Oh yes. I must also beg for letters from my professors. Great.
Every time I try to face down prepping for grad school my brain goes into a tailspin. Not very encouraging. I think it's Brad-of-the-gun getting back at me because I'm my own taskmaster at work, and damned good at it too. Why? Why is it like this? I would ask Del and Rae what's up with that, but neither of them have applied for Grad school yet. Maybe I should ask Erin. Maybe we can swap stories about the psychological damage caused by attempting to sort out our futures.
At this juncture all I really can do is attempt.
Sick with dread. Grad school. Aaargh!
I'm gonna have dinner with Shaz tonight, and maybe we'll go see a movie. She's a hardcore Rocky fan, so we might go see that. Whatever. I need a chance to zone out.
Unless the Scooby girls were gonna get their steampunk on?
As you can see, my mind is unweaving. Go me.
