all through the rising sun, all through the circling years

Yesterday, I did a marvelous job of being productive. I was an inspiration to work-logged college students everywhere. Today, it rains, it is grey, it is spring in the truest sense, and bed looks like an awfully nice place to spend the day. I've written four pages despite my bed's damn siren song, and I think I deserve a damn reward. Except four is a drop in the bucket given the number of pages I have yet to write.

I really, really hate this time of year.

Senior banquent, which I'd been looking forward to, left me feeling very strange. A small part of it is that I'll actually miss some of these seniors, and find them rather cool as a class in general. But it was more than that. I do not have words to describe it, but I did shed tears on the phone with my mother yesterday.

It is hard to see the person you want to be, and the person you really are, and the endless canyon between the two.