School is slowly eating my entire life. Two weeks ago, I was walking around the house, feeling like a hippopotamus was sitting on my chest, because of my role-play (it went pretty well). Not that you would know it, my professor has a complete pa-pa-pa-pa-poker face, there is no reading her. And yes, I just referenced Lady GaGa. I've probably said this before, but sometimes when I get really anxious and the event happens and it ends up not being so bad, I kind of wish something bad did happen. Because when I get home, after spending a week running around like a chicken with my head cut off, the person I was whining to typically says, "See I told you it wouldn't be so bad." And sure I'm glad it wasn't so bad, but just one time I want my fears to be justified. So I can tell them, "See it was that bad!"
I didn't even get to breath a sigh of relief, before having to jump into my next assignments. The weekend before last, I was at Borders with my Team from school working on our assignment on a Friday night. School work on a Friday night! Now mind you, I probably wouldn't have done anything exciting with my Friday night, maybe watch some TV and pick my belly button lent. But it is the idea of working on a Friday night, that bothers me. After the meeting, I spent that whole weekend slaving away, working on paper after paper. Being jealous of Adam as he played video games and went to bed early. Pulling my hair out, because I had no clue how I was going to get it all done on time.
But I pulled it off, and dragged my tired butt to my last class in group counseling. I was so excited to get that class behind me, so I could kick start my three-day weekend. The first weekend in months that I didn't have any homework. I was going to do things I never get to do! Like watch all my movies on the DVR! Take Baths! Go to Bed Early! Read more than 20 pages at a time! So I woke up on Friday looking forward to the free day ahead of me. I puttered around the house, I read some blogs, I watched a movie, and by noon I was bored.
Not just a little bored, but the type of bored I was as a child, when I would plop down on the chair in our living room and whine to my mother, "I'M BORED!." Then she would rattle off several things I could do, but I was so stuck in the boredom that nothing seemed worthwhile. So I waited and waited for Adam to come home, hoping he could entertain me. He is like my little monkey that I make dance! But that didn't work either. So I just got through Friday, believing that Saturday would be better. But it wasn't, and I spent the whole weekend BORED.
So I have come to an awful conclusion. I only enjoy my free time when I shouldn't be having it, and I'm supposed to be doing something else. I enjoy the guilt that comes with procrastinating. And worse than that, I seemingly enjoy doing school work. Who loves doing research and writing papers? Apparently I do. I guess I've been a student so long it has just melded into my identity. So who knows what my life will be like post school. I may have to keep going for my doctorate just to stay satisfied.