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Duck, Duck, Duck, Buddha.
Apr. 12th, 2008 02:15 pmI woke up this morning and stared at my ceiling for a few minutes before heaving a gigantic sigh and maneuvering myself up and my computer on in a complicated motion perfected by a semester of practice. My bandwidth has, alas, once again dipped into the negatives, which I tried convincing myself was a good thing as this would encourage me to start my major essay that I resolved to start this weekend and hopefully finish by Monday. I have never had so much difficulty writing an essay. Normally as soon as I finally sit down with my research resources and a keyboard at my fingertips, the words begin to flow and I occasionally insert a source here or there to make it official. Not so with this one. This one resists all attempts to be written. Even breaking it into an outline, which I absolutely hate doing, has not helped any. I keep starting before realizing I’m either writing myself in circles or starting an entirely new thesis. It is beyond vexing. I promised myself I could watch more episodes of due South if I actually worked, though, and there is nothing like proper incentive.
Earlier this week, I had toyed with the idea of going home for the weekend, but Dad and Mom informed me that they would be in College Station for Parent’s Day with Chris. Joking with them, I mentioned that they had not been to visit me once and Austin was two hours closer than College Station. Now, my recent obsession with Northern Exposure and due South recalled a yearning for the outdoors in me and I quickly went through a list of people it would be acceptable to go camping with before finally, and somewhat inexplicably, landing on Dad. So I called today and Dad answered the phone. He must have felt guilty about my joking, because when I awkwardly blurted, “Would you like to go camping with me this summer?”, he readily agreed.
“I’d like that,” he said. “Think about where you want to go and we’ll set aside a weekend to go.”
It seems strange that not four months ago, Dad and I could scarcely stand to be in the same room without a fight breaking out and now we are planning on going camping together. I find myself simultaneously dreading and looking forward to it. I am leaning towards the latter. I never found myself overcome with any bouts of homesickness or loneliness while here, no doubt partly because of the comforting presence of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
panpipe, but with only three weeks to go, I find myself wanting to be home. The first thing I plan to do when I get home is to make chicken fajitas with corn tortillas, mango pico de gallo, and grilled bell peppers, complete it with a couple of beers, and sit in the hot tub with a good book at my side.
But, before all that, I suppose I have to finish up here. This essay, then two more tests, and I am D-U-N done--and not a moment too soon.
20 days to go.
Earlier this week, I had toyed with the idea of going home for the weekend, but Dad and Mom informed me that they would be in College Station for Parent’s Day with Chris. Joking with them, I mentioned that they had not been to visit me once and Austin was two hours closer than College Station. Now, my recent obsession with Northern Exposure and due South recalled a yearning for the outdoors in me and I quickly went through a list of people it would be acceptable to go camping with before finally, and somewhat inexplicably, landing on Dad. So I called today and Dad answered the phone. He must have felt guilty about my joking, because when I awkwardly blurted, “Would you like to go camping with me this summer?”, he readily agreed.
“I’d like that,” he said. “Think about where you want to go and we’ll set aside a weekend to go.”
It seems strange that not four months ago, Dad and I could scarcely stand to be in the same room without a fight breaking out and now we are planning on going camping together. I find myself simultaneously dreading and looking forward to it. I am leaning towards the latter. I never found myself overcome with any bouts of homesickness or loneliness while here, no doubt partly because of the comforting presence of
panpipe, but with only three weeks to go, I find myself wanting to be home. The first thing I plan to do when I get home is to make chicken fajitas with corn tortillas, mango pico de gallo, and grilled bell peppers, complete it with a couple of beers, and sit in the hot tub with a good book at my side. But, before all that, I suppose I have to finish up here. This essay, then two more tests, and I am D-U-N done--and not a moment too soon.
20 days to go.
