in which life is good, but rather exhausting
An update, then.
I've been pulling 12+ hour days for the past month. I love having weekends off. Sixty hours, and once I start to burn out, boom! There's Saturday, crashin' down around my ears to remind me that it does get better. Love it.
I've started running. Fer real. Following a program for n00bs. I used to be a jock, but I'm clearly not anymore, and I need baby steps or I'll quit. So far, so good. Someday I'm going to run a marathon. I fully expect it to be a year, or a few years, or however damn long it takes -- it'll be awhile 'til I'm ready, but it's going to happen. Yes.
Along those lines, I've also started a new diet. Simple and it targets my weaknesses while providing occasional outlets. So far, again, so good.
My thesis work has suffered. Somehow I need to be able to go public with it by June 15th so I can defend again by July 15th and graduate in August. I hope. Dear god have mercy on my exhausted, procrastinating soul.
I've begun drinking coffee again. Yesterday I had too much and left my second job early to sleep off the headache. I couldn't sleep, of course, but resting helped. Fought the shakes and cold sweats most of last night and didn't really sleep at all.
Grandpa's treatments have started. He's made a bucket list. He doesn't expect to be here next year. I hate this. Hate it. Dona nobis pacem.
Grandma's lungs are filling with fluid again. We email every few days. She's chipper, herself, strong. I hate watching her and Grandpa get old, but if I must get old, I hope I age as they do, with sound minds and stubborn spirits.
I miss her. I think I've finally fucked things up enough, hurt her enough that she wants very little to do with me. It's not as simple as all that, but that's all you need to know. The girl needs time to heal and I'm the worst thing for her right now, second to maybe arsenic and cyanide. Be forewarned, hardy lovers: if a woman says she's a jackass, an asshole, a jerk, and you refuse to believe her, she is going to prove you wrong. I hate being so weak.
I wonder if I'll ever be allowed back inside.
I want him to know that I'm graduating. I want him to be proud. I want to hand him my diploma and say I'm proud to be yours, I know you've been here all along, and I love you.
I'm giving serious thought to becoming a state trooper once I've graduated and have a better chance of passing the test. The PSP have a cybercrimes unit I could join in time and the FBI likes law enforcement experience, so it'll help me get to where I want to be. I'm just not sure they'd take me. I hope.
The weather's been off and on around here. 40*. 70*. Rainy. Sunny. Very few storms.
I get to drive today. I may finally break a little. There's a better word for it, but I'm hoping for catharsis.
I need to get new guitar strings. I broke my G string (hehe) a few weeks ago on the Epiphone and all I have right now is the Yamaha, whose sound is not comparable. I promised a cover of Hey Ya. It probably won't be pretty, but I'm told that's not the point. I'll load it up on YouTube once I have something of minimally-embarrassing quality (I think one or two of you have found me there -- I don't post links to that stuff here because holy cow is it bad. And personal. Mostly I use YouTube for posting things that I can't email and still want to share with specific people.).
Over and out, folks.
I've been pulling 12+ hour days for the past month. I love having weekends off. Sixty hours, and once I start to burn out, boom! There's Saturday, crashin' down around my ears to remind me that it does get better. Love it.
I've started running. Fer real. Following a program for n00bs. I used to be a jock, but I'm clearly not anymore, and I need baby steps or I'll quit. So far, so good. Someday I'm going to run a marathon. I fully expect it to be a year, or a few years, or however damn long it takes -- it'll be awhile 'til I'm ready, but it's going to happen. Yes.
Along those lines, I've also started a new diet. Simple and it targets my weaknesses while providing occasional outlets. So far, again, so good.
My thesis work has suffered. Somehow I need to be able to go public with it by June 15th so I can defend again by July 15th and graduate in August. I hope. Dear god have mercy on my exhausted, procrastinating soul.
I've begun drinking coffee again. Yesterday I had too much and left my second job early to sleep off the headache. I couldn't sleep, of course, but resting helped. Fought the shakes and cold sweats most of last night and didn't really sleep at all.
Grandpa's treatments have started. He's made a bucket list. He doesn't expect to be here next year. I hate this. Hate it. Dona nobis pacem.
Grandma's lungs are filling with fluid again. We email every few days. She's chipper, herself, strong. I hate watching her and Grandpa get old, but if I must get old, I hope I age as they do, with sound minds and stubborn spirits.
I miss her. I think I've finally fucked things up enough, hurt her enough that she wants very little to do with me. It's not as simple as all that, but that's all you need to know. The girl needs time to heal and I'm the worst thing for her right now, second to maybe arsenic and cyanide. Be forewarned, hardy lovers: if a woman says she's a jackass, an asshole, a jerk, and you refuse to believe her, she is going to prove you wrong. I hate being so weak.
I wonder if I'll ever be allowed back inside.
I want him to know that I'm graduating. I want him to be proud. I want to hand him my diploma and say I'm proud to be yours, I know you've been here all along, and I love you.
I'm giving serious thought to becoming a state trooper once I've graduated and have a better chance of passing the test. The PSP have a cybercrimes unit I could join in time and the FBI likes law enforcement experience, so it'll help me get to where I want to be. I'm just not sure they'd take me. I hope.
The weather's been off and on around here. 40*. 70*. Rainy. Sunny. Very few storms.
I get to drive today. I may finally break a little. There's a better word for it, but I'm hoping for catharsis.
I need to get new guitar strings. I broke my G string (hehe) a few weeks ago on the Epiphone and all I have right now is the Yamaha, whose sound is not comparable. I promised a cover of Hey Ya. It probably won't be pretty, but I'm told that's not the point. I'll load it up on YouTube once I have something of minimally-embarrassing quality (I think one or two of you have found me there -- I don't post links to that stuff here because holy cow is it bad. And personal. Mostly I use YouTube for posting things that I can't email and still want to share with specific people.).
Over and out, folks.