So I'm still in a brooding mood - it doesn't help that this weekend made me feel that there are aspects of my life that have now definitively passed me by. For one, I can never be a nineteen-year-old cocaine addict. For another, I'm officially well into my mid-twenties, which is neither a comfortable nor an exciting time. Anyway, I went to work today even though I woke up feeling nauseous and really just wanted to call in sick; I had too many important meetings to go to, including a forum talk that I had set up with one of my company's leading political lobbyists, which was v. cool. Setting up these talks has nothing at all to do with my core responsibilities, but it's kind of cool to force myself to take time out once a month to go to these talks (since I have to go, since I organized them--there are lots of great talks at work, but I usually don't make time for them).
All that greatness aside, though, I'm feeling distinctly unmotivated. I mean, I'm excited about my new role at work to some extent--lots of great challenges and responsibilities, and I love the people I'm going to be working with. However, I'm not really excited about a long-term future that involves my current ratio of work:friends, which is pretty much in direct correlation with my ratio of cash:leisure. I boycotted a little today by chatting online with Walter--it was the first long conversation I'd had with him in months, and we used to talk almost every day. So, I clearly need to figure out a next step that gives me more time to pursue things I'm passionate about.
I started thinking about phd programs again--not that I'm sure that's what I want to do, but I think I'm perhaps stronger at analytical writing than I am at creative writing, and so perhaps it makes more sense to apply for phd programs this fall rather than trying to take time off to write a romance novel. The problem is that if I try the romance novel thing and it doesn't work out, I'm a year farther behind in applying for grad school--and at this point, even if I apply this fall, I'll be 27 when I start, which makes me 33 when I finish, which is just depressing.
Bleh. Luckily there is still time to decide things, but right now I'm exhausted. Goodnight!
1 comment:
So what if it takes you six years. If you don't apply and don't go, six years from now, you'll still be 33 but you won't have your PhD.
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