much too late to fake it.
I'm still here, faithfully helping to keep our levels of CO2 production up.
Being both a perfectionist and a procrastinator is a recipe for frustration at paper-writing time. I always feel like I shouldn't write anything until I have the theoretical sophistication and prose style of my favourite academics. Apparently, my subconscious believes that I will acquire these qualities by watching old episodes of ER with Erin and making sure every corner of the internets have been thoroughly explored.
When I breathe and step back I realize that everything will be fine, but it's pretty easy to slip into panic.
I really do love Manitoba (or as some would say, "Mantinoba") but living in such a northern climate is not so good for my mental health, methinks. I was watching Emma the other day, the one with Ewan MacGregor and Gwyneth Paltrow, and I almost cried because of the profusion of wet green country lanes. I'd sell my soul for grass and trees right about now. Going to California in six weeks will be a nice jolt of transition, I suppose... and then back to LFG, that land of awesome, and all the moccasin-wearing and bannock-baking and child-wrangling and beaver-stroking and men's house-mocking that goes with that. The Fort is worse than Mennonites for never letting you out of its psychological clutches.
My future is such a scary place. I rather prefer the past.
don't love me too much, i don't think i can take it.
Being both a perfectionist and a procrastinator is a recipe for frustration at paper-writing time. I always feel like I shouldn't write anything until I have the theoretical sophistication and prose style of my favourite academics. Apparently, my subconscious believes that I will acquire these qualities by watching old episodes of ER with Erin and making sure every corner of the internets have been thoroughly explored.
When I breathe and step back I realize that everything will be fine, but it's pretty easy to slip into panic.
I really do love Manitoba (or as some would say, "Mantinoba") but living in such a northern climate is not so good for my mental health, methinks. I was watching Emma the other day, the one with Ewan MacGregor and Gwyneth Paltrow, and I almost cried because of the profusion of wet green country lanes. I'd sell my soul for grass and trees right about now. Going to California in six weeks will be a nice jolt of transition, I suppose... and then back to LFG, that land of awesome, and all the moccasin-wearing and bannock-baking and child-wrangling and beaver-stroking and men's house-mocking that goes with that. The Fort is worse than Mennonites for never letting you out of its psychological clutches.
My future is such a scary place. I rather prefer the past.
don't love me too much, i don't think i can take it.