If this blog were a baby, some court would have deemed me absentee sometime in the last couple of weeks.
It’s not that I’ve been busy. I have been, but I used to write every day while I had a whole buncha shit to do. It’s not that I’ve been lazy. I’ve been doing stuff, left, right, and sideways. It’s that I haven’t had anything to say. I’ve been all conflicted, and blahblahblah, and just insert Charlie Brown’s mom here for awhile, ok?
For about a year now, I’ve been writing for a collaborative blog called The Road More Travelled. The bloggers are me and the mindblowingly fabulous woman who has been my best friend for 17 or so years.
Last week, I told her I had to cut back on The Road posts.
I expected anger, or something, but she was all ‘dude, of course – whatevs’. Ok, not really. She doesn’t say ‘whatevs’. She’s classier than me.
The thing is, I feel like I have to be all smart on The Road. We’re making a point. We’re experiencing and we’re writing about it. We’re blogging about our quarter-life crises.(Yes, I am going to live to be 120 – you want to fuck with that?) We’re saying REAL THINGS.
I feel obligated to be smart.
I also have a food blog, called Mangled Baby Duck. (You know you wish you owned mangledbabyduck.com). It’s a cross between a recipe blog and a diary. It’s a pain in the ass, to be clear. I take pictures. I upload them and edit them and then write about what’s in them. The lemon asparagus risotto recipe I just posted took me almost as long to write down as it took me to make (which was a long fucking time, thankyouverymuch).
I feel obligated to make, eat, and do interesting things.
Here, though?
I don’t feel obligated to do jack all.
I feel obligated to be myself. To yap at whoever happens to land here, from the wide world of the internets, if that whoever feels like reading. Basically, to yap. I feel obligated to curse if I feel like it, but not to curse if I don’t feel like it. I feel obligated to show my cranky pants when they’re what I’m wearing, and to show my enthusiastic pants when they’re what I’m wearing.
I like it here. For some reason, that has made me feel bad lately. I feel bad because I don’t feel bad about being not-always-interesting, or not-always-smart.
Yeah.
It’s, what, a blogger thing? A girl thing? An Emma thing? A person-under-5’2″ thing? Who knows.
Anyway.
I’m back.
Feeling bad is for chumps.
stuff, and stuff
Wednesday, April 6th, 2011
Remember last semester when I spent a whole crapton of time filling out applications for the National Science Foundation fellowship, even though I’d never heard of it before my advisor asked me to apply?
I didn’t get it.
I planned on using this as a decision point. I kept telling people that if I got the fellowship, I would stay in school, and if I didn’t, I wouldn’t.
I’m not particularly fond of the major I picked (dear everyone who looked askance when I announced I was getting my masters in computer science – you were right, ok? YOU WIN) and I don’t necessarily have any alternative ideas for something I’d like better.
I have to finish the semester, because otherwise some NSF knee breakers will be after me for the money I got paid this year (totally unrelated to the fellowship.) I’m not going to pay to continue school if I don’t have any genius ideas about what to major in. Waste of time and money, yo.
Fake rap slang is not major.
Don’t worry, yo, I checked.
So. What should I do instead?
No, I’m really asking.
What should I do instead?
Tags: any billion dollars suggestions made in the comments will be the property of emma
Posted in advice (requested or otherwise), it's all about me, school, work | 5 Comments »