That's A Wrap!

What a whirlwind semester.

I am still burning the midnight oil to get everything done that I have been delinquent on delivering.

As my final semester of coursework for my Master's degree, I think I couldn't have asked for a more dramatic, climactic exodus.

I've learned far more about myself--what I can achieve, what my limits are--than about literature and compositon this semester.

I've learned that you can't do it all. Something has to give sometimes. I have always had success anxieties to some extent. I know that I have to temper these anxieties with a good healthy dose of reality, a reality in which no one is superman/woman, no one can shoulder all responsibilities, no one can be clever and articulate all the time, no one can be inspired all the time.

Sometimes a bitter pill to swallow, but a necessary medicine nonetheless.

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Like sand through the hourglass, these are the days....

of tortuous hell. Aka, the last weeks of the semester.

I'd like to say that, due to the new baby, I have put everything off until the last minute, that the work has piled up in an unusual way, that this just isn't like me to be so overwhelmed. The truth is:
The baby certainly doesn't help; but, no matter what the circumstances, I find myself in a similar predicament at the end of every semester. The work is just piled up and I am typing like a woman with a gun to her head, intermittently crying, sweating, hysterically laughing, absently staring, and then (of course) more typing, typing, typing.
I always have good intensions at the beginning of the semester. "I'll make a plan", "I'll read ahead every weekend", "I'll never procrastinate this semester".

Yeah
Yeah
yeah

I've told myself this so many times that now that I actually have a solid, legitimate instance of chaos induced procrastination, I can't help but be sick of my own stress-filled sentiment.
I am the girl who cried stress.

Spring in my Step

What is it about the changing of the season that stimulates a corresponding change within me?

When things either warm up or cool down, I can feel my whole psyche alter. I get excited. I feel as though I've been given the proverbial clean slate by the weather gods.

I wonder if others share this experience.

If so, I think there should be a national changing-of-the-seasons holiday. It would be difficult, because it would be different every year. Because, I am not suggesting that we have a day off on the official first day of spring according to the almanac. Rather, I am referring to that day when everybody knows that different weather is on the way. That first day that you either need to bust out the tank tops or the jeans jacket. You know it when you walk out the door and feel it. And, I think it is an absolute travesty that everyone is not off work on these days. These days are refreshing to the mind and spirit, and it should be an inalienable right that all people have these days to frolic and enjoy the feelings that come in such temperate bliss.