Nothing much of interest to blog about lately.
Life continues on rather more stubbornly than ever since I've joined the ranks of the unemployed and rather useless. Life doesn't seem to want to let me continue on to be a fully-fledged productive adult in society and so I find myself living in my parents house, waiting for the lease to be up on my apartment. While I wait, I vary between moments of complete denial-- planning christmas-themed projects and watching Martha Stewart online-- and waves of panic about how time keeps going by and I feel as though absolutely NOTHING (good) will ever happen to me. The vague idea that I will study for the GRE, study critical theory to write my WS and SOP and then apply to graduate programs has somehow less potential for realization than other vague ideas that I absolutely knew must come about, even though they seemed impossible at the time (like graduating from college in the first place).
Of course, December application deadlines seem sort of like a far ways away. Though, if I am supposed to compose the best essay I've ever written, geared towards the faculty of ten different institutions that I have yet to research, it really isn't far away at all.
What seems more pressing, and distressing, whenever I think about it is having to move out of my apartment. Not only does it make me more removed from just about every path of advancement that I want to follow (contacting professors, studying Russian, a job that has to do with anything I've studied etc.) but I have a hell of a lot of stuff. How did I get so much stuff? How am I going to get it down three flights of stairs?