The flight of time

I am told that time flies when you are having fun. Time, I have noted, also has a nasty habit of flying during the not-so-fun times, too.

I've been neglectful of this journal. I could blame a lot of things, but I will settle on blaming that damned harpy, Time.

Dear old Granddad told me to be less florid in my writing. I considered taking his advice to heart, but could not bring myself to augment (although really, the correct term would be "truncate") my style in order to please anyone else.

No, friends, like dear Mister McCain, I am a maverick of the highest order. But let's not spoil a good time with political talk, okay? I just hope you all know that I think Palin is a joke and an insult to good sense and women everywhere. And that's all I have to say about that.

The days are growing shorter, and I am almost done here in Muncie. My academic work is beginning to show signs of completion, and my blood pressure should be dropping...

But wait! I still have to find a job, and sell or rent this dang house out. And move. Somewhere. Okay, I am a still rather stressed out. But all this is temporary.

I am focusing on Washington D.C. or Austin Texas, both having special merits unlike other cities. I am occasionally awash with mild jealousy at some of my peers who are neither approaching 30 nor saddled with an enormous pile of student loan debt- they have the luxury of time on their side still.

No, I feel as though I must make a politically savvy career choice now, and save the leisure and fun for later, once I have earned it a bit. We'll see.

I'm torn between disaster work and landscape architecture, DC and Austin, in various configurations. I'm rolling the dice, every time I send out a resume. My fate is in the hands of destiny as much as it is my own volition, and I find that as terrifying as I do exhilarating.

See what you missed? Nothing much.