Graduate school headaches

Holy crap, I'm stressed again. Every time I start thinking about my future and the inevitable work that I must do to get beyond my live-on, haunted-by-undergrads, up-all-night existance, I end up with the beginnings of a damn migraine. I wonder, what was so bad about South Texas that I couldn't stick it out for three more semesters to finish my damn degree in a perfectly good program? Why did I feel the need to move 1,200 miles away and start a fresh journey down the grad school road, which we all know is paved with pissy Registrar's Office people and red tape? Granted, free tuition was a perk--three semesters or not, I was still at least $6k away from my Tx State M. Ed. Bleh. I've worked it out that if the 36 hours I need to take are offered at the times and in the sequence that I need them, I may be able to graduate by May 2006. That's nice. Of course what are the odds that things will work out that way? This is my life, people, and we all know what that means: Murphy's Law (honestly, they ought to change it to Peacegrrl's Law) reigns supreme.

And I didn't get any damn sleep last night. It's becoming a typical Sunday night ritual, probably because of how much I screw up my sleep schedule every weekend. AND I have this stuffy-nose thing, and I can't tell if it's allergies, sinuses, or an impending cold. Add that to the fact that I had to talk to yet another parent this morning whose child is incapable of working out her own freaking roommate problems, and you can imagine what a ball of joy I am this Monday! Grrrr. It could be worse. Actually, life IS okay, despite numerous indications to the contrary. (This is me working on the "positive outlook" thing). I'm in decent health, I bought three shirts this weekend that look damn good on me, and I may actually get to put some more money into the savings account this month. There, I feel better already. And eventually I WILL get my master's degree and I'll have a job I like that doesn't require me to put in 12-hour days. Okay, I guess I'm over my stress-fest now. Do men do this? Do they have six mood changes in the span of 10 minutes? Do normal women even do this? Maybe this is the apex of the quarter-life crisis. I'd hate to think it gets any crazier.

So I know I've mentioned in this blog that I'm a knitter, and I know at least one other person who reads this is too. And of course after reading last week's terrific post in which I put in a plug for Knitty, my favorite zine, EVERYONE'S going to discover the zen of two needles and a ball of yarn. Did you know that there are a million knitting blogs out there? If I wasn't so lazy and owned a digital camera (and actually believed there were legions of followers out there who wanted to see my latest scarf, sock, or pillow cover), I might start one myself. Anyway, there actually is a point to this babble. If you do anything that involves yarn--knitting, crocheting, playing with the cat, whatever--check out Peace Fleece. I love these people--they sell yarn that's a mixture of wool from their farm in Maine and international high-conflict hot spots, like Isreal, the West Bank, and the Czek Republic. They work with craftspeople all over the world to foster cooperation, good will, and kick-ass yarn. And check out the Baghdad Blue shade, because they're donating the proceeds to a community in Isreal where Palestinians and Isrealies live and work together. Really. Such a place exists.

Okay, I've ranted, gotten over my stress, and done my part for world peace. So I guess I should use the remaining 50 minutes of time in my office to do something "productive." Later...
-pg