Sunday, March 21, 2010


I am on a mission.

That sounds pretty lame. I guess really, I would like to be on a mission. I am trying to be on a mission. If I could get over my near-paralyzing procrastination, bred by a lack of interest in making my life a blank slate, then I could be on a mission. I should probably get on a mission.

The person sitting behind me in this coffee shop is probably writing an IM to a friend right now with a big "wtf" in it.

Right now, I'm in this very quintessential 20-something spot where my entire life is about to be uprooted and I figure, what way to better deal with upheaval than broadcasting it out across the internet? It's therapeutic.

Currently, I'm in the midst of planning out an impending breakup with my boyfriend of almost three years, deciding whether I want to move my life to New Orleans or Chicago (and how I plan to afford either of those options), forcing myself to overcome my not-so-latent fear of change to even finish the University of Chicago graduate school application and, you know, working.

I have about 3 months (give 2 months or take 1) to figure this out. See: procrastination.

I am trying to learn how to move. Then, to pull oneself up by those cliched bootstraps.

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