13 I 2003 - 08:16 - vesanus eram, sum, ero

I've been away.

So away that I forgot that this thing (unlike just about everything else I have that requires a password, which I know is bad, but I do it anyway) -- well, I was going to finish my sentence with 'has a different password,' but I think my abuse of the parenthetical phrase covered that quite nicely, don't you?

There's a good reason for my being away. In fact, there would have been good reason had you not heard from me until March, and here's why. In the upcoming weeks, I have these things to get done:

six essays, with one transcript and letter of recommendation attached, for a program I already know I don't want to go to -- due postmarked by 31 January

(progress: one sentence.)

cello recital -- 26 January

(programmed: Chopin Sonata, Schumann Five Pieces in Folk Style, Rachmaninoff Vocalise, and Popper Spinning Song.)

piano recital -- 16 February, but it's being postponed to sometime in March

(far too much programmed)

And then, and then, and then! I have to work in Alchera somehow, and then there's school -- God knows why I'd need to worry about that or anything -- and by the time it's over with I will probably have collapsed several times.

Actually, as far as the application is concerned, I'm thinking I may just not do it for long enough that the deadline passes. But, uh, that would be wrong. And I couldn't ever tell my mother that, if she asked.

As far as Alchera goes, I am seriously considering using one of my opt-outs, because otherwise there's just too much to deal with. I'd love to write about omniscience and divinity, but anything that doesn't help me a) pass my classes b) play my recital decently is set to be really, really, resented right about now.

All of that was a really long way of saying 'Please don't expect anything in this space; I'll be busy tilting at windmills.'

Some people came back from college over the past week to visit -- it was nice to talk to Paul again, and I caught glimpses of a few others. The entire day was a little odd -- we got our grades and as a result much of the afternoon was this sort of mishmash of stress and leisure time. I took the opportunity to talk to a couple of teachers and also to some people I hadn't seen or talked to in a while (despite going to the same small school -- heh. Maybe I need to get out more.) Somehow the subject of [iskandar] came up in one of those comments. 'Oh, I thought you were over him,' said one. 'You've stopped talking about him, after all...'

Out of sight, out of mind? Didn't work over the holidays, although I sort of realized that babbling obsessively about him, it, anything at all is generally not a good plan.

Which is why I should stop right about now. So much self-inflicted anguish, and I know I'm not ever going to ask anything. It can't be that I like putting myself in knots, can it?