Flipflops in the Rain


procrastination is the fear of failure…

and i am the princess of procrastination.

in my pursuit of becoming a better person (and because of my lifelong habits of throwing money i don’t have in the garbage), i applied to grad school. within four weeks, i was accepted and registered for masters-level courses.

i don’t know what i was thinking. i’ve forgotten how to be a student. and i’ve quickly remembered how to get by on extremely tight deadlines. i’m surprisingly good at half-assing my way to an A. i’m three classes in, and doing pretty well on five-hour-energy-fueled, last-minute¬†writing sessions — which is so not the point of getting a higher education.

i wish i could turn off the internet and just focus. oh, look! best video ever!

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one year

one year ago, i moved back to the west coast.
i lived with my parents.
i started a new job.
i turned a long-distance relationship into a very short one.
i turned short-distance friendships into very long ones.
i rekindled long-term traditions with my childhood best friends.
i had big expectations.

today, i’m not moving anywhere.
i live alone in the city with my loyal fluffball.
i love my job.
i have moved on from the relationship i thought was meant to be forever.
i miss my east coast friends every minute of every day.
i love my west coast friends even more every minute of every day.
i have no more expectations.

in one year, i have learned to take risks.
i will go back to europe in five weeks.
i will run a half-marathon in three months.
i will probably adopt another fluffball in six months.
i will graduate with a master’s degree in 18 months.
i will learn to create a decent meal in 24 months. maybe.
i will take each day one step at a time.