I have poured grad school into the pot and turned on the burner. Within a few weeks hopefully there will be bubbling, and then I can pour it into a bowl and keep myself alive with it for a little while longer.Grad school is apparently canned soup.
To switch metaphors and help me along the way, I've bought myself a sleek and sexy technological companion to strut around campus on my arm: an iPad. Like any good trophy wife, it constantly wants to go shopping and wears a lot of leather. The shopping is for apps to turn what is essentially a device meant for consumer-whoring and looking at kitties into a useful academic tool for data organization; the leather is so it will survive the inevitable bike accident that's going to happen as I bike the serious business commercial roads to and from Tufts.
I drew the accompanying drawing with my finger on the iPad. There is potential here, but I wish potential meant "a larger canvas size."
Aside from the academic, there's one major new situation: with Ashlyn moved to London I've fallen off the good ship Cohabitation into the salty, sultry waters of singledom. The singles pool? Does existing metaphor say it's a pool, not a sea? I guess it doesn't matter; kids pee in both. Which is gross.
I haven't had real experience with hunting, dating, and sexing outside the college bubble of "I'm going to stick my head in the sand and pretend STDs don't exist because I (foolishly) trust the people in my circles to be intelligent and take care of themselves." So now I need to do that thing where you're intelligent and responsible. Fortunately I seem to be getting better at that.
Fish oil, biking, rigorous academics, and whiskey. These four things are keeping me consistently happy, and consistent happiness is new for me. Things Are Going Well.
