Saturday, May 24, 2008



The crabapple trees have mostly lost their flowers and no longer look like this. It's a cliche, (isn't everything I do a cliche?), but I like to walk under them in their low branches and be surrounded by tree.

In less than a month I'll be going back to England for a visit, and I've all but abandoned any hope I had of getting a job before then. I'll start another massive and concentrated job search when I return, or something. I've been so excited about this trip ever since I booked my plane tickets, but now that it is close I've felt a strange mixture of relief and anxiety. Relief because a month is significantly less than 6 months, which is how long I will have been away from a significant fellow, almost to the day. Anxiety because of the time I've wasted between then and now moping over being so far away. I have this thing about counting down to an event: it makes me feel like the time before the event is useless and worth wasting, when I know it would be better used in activities other than counting down. I'd like to be able to accept the time and not agonize over it. I want to use it wisely because I know I won't get it back. Counting down seems like a way of counting down to my own death, and that sort of thing freaks me out.

Anyway. The point is, I feel I could have done more other than stress out these last 6 months. To be fair, I churned out an impressive bulk of final year essays and other tree-destroying work, and I did the most ambitious knitting I've ever engaged in - my first sweater, first socks, first cables, first stranded colourwork, some ill-received but nonetheless awesome monster-shaped furry slippers... So yay for me and my personal accomplishments, I guess. Plus, moping aside, I managed to hold up my end of a long distance relationship over a separation of 6 months- which wasn't really that hard most of the time and could have been much worse. While these haven't been the most fun 6 months of my life, maybe I should be satisfied.

That was a lot angstier than I had intended in this post-livejournal age. Oh well, whatever.


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