Disasters, etc.

At one point in time, I loved my project. I conceived it. I nursed it through infancy. I fought for it to be liked by the other projects in the lab. We were pals. Symbiotes.

Sometime between preparing its debut on that first poster and last Christmas, I began to get a little tired of it. My ill-conceived experiments began to show holes. I thought it was something that I could patch up.

Uh, no.

Those damn grad school interviews. As I explained my project, it became very clear to me that I am working on a pile of shit that has no relevance. Hooray! I have been and will continue wasting my fucking time!

So yeah, clearly I don't have that PhD yet.

Then again, I don't think I could have had better preparation for grad school. In nearly two years, I have been through the ups and downs. I've hated my project. I've hated myself. I've lost all motivation, then had it unexpectedly come back, then lost it again, over and over.

Essentially, I have been dating science all this time. We've had some fights, but it was still all new and fresh and unknown and sexy. We just got engaged, though. I've chosen my grad school. Now it's serious. Very soon, we will move in together.

I'm already soliciting counselors.