Sorry, folks, I fell off the wagon. I got tired and busy and I didn't make writing a priority. Which is exactly what I am NOT supposed to do. So, I'm taking a page out of the vlogbrother's book and asking you, my devoted reader(s), to prescribe a punishment for not writing. Leave your suggestions in the comments below.
Let me start off my saying that I have a pimple inside my nose. It really hurts. Especially since I'm still kicking the tail end of this cold. Nasty business.
So, what have I been up to?
Well, I made this:
for the daughter of my bosses. Cthulhu dice bag for the win!
I also wrote a lot of letters, worked a lot, and caught up on some much needed rest. Eleven days without a day off was just too much, my mind was melting. I've also managed to not do any homework. Gosh I'm a slacker. I'm going to be tired this week too, I can feel it. I just still need to get back in the habit of having homework that I HAVE TO get done before I actually live my life. It's so strange to have to force myself to prioritize something that I have no interest in. It seems so backward.
I can't believe January is almost over. This year is 1/12 over. Not a huge chunk of the pie, but still. Being conscious of how fast time sneaks away is something that has come to me with age, not that I'm that old mind you. I used to not think of it, though. I know that sounds cliché, but it's true. In all of my smaller classes I've been asked in one way or another what my long-term goals and plans are.
I still have no idea.
I can feel my life moving onward, my age increasing, my decisions making themselves by my inaction, but still I have no clue. I'm coming to the time in my life where that isn't cute anymore. I've always had a plan. Before I needed a plan, I had one. When I was eight years old I printed off the student handbook for Edinburgh University. I was going to go there when I was out of high school, study literature, and then move to the Scottish countryside, become a hermit, write books, and raise goats. That was my serious life plan for more years than I care to admit.
Even later in life when I had a better grasp of reality and the things that would actually make me happy, I still had a plan. A different plan: get a scholarship to Washington University in St. Louis, study architecture, get a scholarship to Yale, study graduate level architecture, get a brilliant job, design sustainable buildings for the third world, save humanity.
Still a little crazy, a fact I realized in the midst of step number 2 of that plan. I was massively unhappy and had a meltdown. I all but checked out entirely during my third semester of college. I spent the vast majority of that semester wandering around Forrest Park and the St Louis art museum, decorating my class drafting studio with paper snowflakes, and getting in fights with my professors. Word to the wise, if you are taking an art-based class with no concrete grading criteria, it would behoove you not to call the professor a bitch to her face and scream, “Oh yeah, what are you going to do to me if I don't feel like sticking around after class to set up your stupid gallery show? Huh? WHAT CAN YOU DO?”
She can give you a C is what, even if you work your ass off, that's what she can do. I guess I should count myself lucky. In my own defense for that stupidity, I hadn't slept in about three days and I was having massive withdrawals from a prescription I was taking back then. I was a little....off my game.
Anyway, aside from that bizarre flashback, the point I was attempting to make is that since that time I haven't really had a concrete plan. My plan is that I don't need a plan. I don't know what I want to do so why force it? Well, if I don't start making decisions soon, all my decisions will be made for me. I'll get stuck, I'll waste opportunities. Any kindergartener, when you ask them, can answer the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
I still can't answer that, and it's really starting to bum me out. :-P
For now, I'll plug along. I had my staff Christmas party tonight, and if I'm going to waste away in a retail job, I couldn't ask for a better trench to toil in. Them's are a good lot, that's for sure.
ps- creepiest beverage ever = rooibos tea in a skull mug
goodnight!
