There’s much to do to make this site what I’d like it to be, but there’s more immediate demand on me come from school.
With one paper finished I’m down to three for monday, this website, and an unending stream of memos describing same.
While I might (and do) argue as to the meaningfulness of ad nauseam mid-stage reports, I cannot argue that jumping through those Sisyphean hoops is not preparation for some hypothetical office job I never mean to take, or an assistance-ship in hell.
Two more days. Three more papers. Two more projects. One final.
With the due dates for all of my work re-arranged such that they overlap and to fall together on monday the fifteenth, wednesday’s exam truly marks a finality for this semester.
I won’t be sorry to see it go, it wasn’t a very pleasant one, academically.
I will be sorry to see an end. I’ve always been one over-attached to the continuing existence of things, even things about which I care little. Endings remind me of mortality and that horrifies me.
My birthday last week marked the end of my twenty-eights year. The final next week shall mark the end of the semester. Two weeks later and the year itself ends. I find it difficult at points such as these not to feel a rushing sense of entropy, of spiders being flushed down the drain, moving slowly at first as they’re caught in the thin film of outer current and then accelerating as they are pulled toward the Charybdis center and then finally to disappear into the all intents and purpose nothingness.
Knowing I’ll have more time for plants help.
Writing helps most of all.