It has been brought to my attention, by my brain, that I am an adult. I know, I know…for those of you who read my blogging ramblings, I’m sure this is no surprise, since I appear to have this revelation approximately every six months. But see, I’m not an adult like that whole crowd of my college peers, who are marrying and having children as if the rapture was scheduled for January 1, 2008. I’m an adult. I go to work, I come home, I have lived completely on my own for nearly three years. I buy my own groceries, have mastered the art of eating leftovers for a whole week after cooking, and have a therapist’s dreams’ worth of idiosyncratic habits and tendencies that I will quite likely never be broken of. My apartment begins to look more and more like a home and less and less like a dorm room (see below). I read obsessively, and have been known to pass up an evening of human company in order to finish some heavy softcover novel or tiny book in a dead language. My introvert and extrovert tendencies seem to have melded into a goulash of confusion – all the flavors ending up as one. I guess one could call this mellowing.
I passed the German exam. I defend in one week. I will have my MA before my brother gets home for Christmas. I don’t know what I’m going to do next. How’s the classics Ph.D. program in Lexington? Anyone have any idea? Don’t get me wrong, I love it here in the frozen north. The 6-7 inches of snow we got last night are pretty much my idea of a great storm. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do with a terminal MA in classics (doesn’t that make it sound more like a disease than anything else) and a private liberal arts education’s worth of debt. Interesting. We shall see, I guess.
Hmm. Introspective these days, aren’t I? Disturbing. :-) Fear not, my devoted friends and readers. I may be bent, but not broken. Hearts have an amazing amount of resilience because hope is inherent to humanity. We can’t help it. When you come to the end of hope, there is always just one glimmer more. It’s woven into our souls.