I may have mentioned this before, but it's 1 am, I have another hour to sit here at the Ashdown front desk, Mountain Dew is keeping me awake and it needs to be said.
I worked every day last year from 8 to 5, sweating myself crazy outside or doing repetitive, frustrating tasks inside, making $6.50 as a poor government servant. In an hour tonight I've done nothing but play online Scrabble and get the storage room key for a guy, and I make $9 at this job.
It makes you feel weird, like you should be doing more. I've felt that way all through January, actually -- I have done a couple interviews and written a couple thousand words for my thesis, but this lingering dread hangs over me, whispering that I should be doing more and I'll regret my current pace come spring. Mostly, I still haven't mastered this free-writer's life, where a certain amount of work must be done by nobody's chaining you to the desk. I hope I feel more comfortable this coming semester. I think I will.
On the plus side, I am going to be able to finish observing my lab this week. I've been hanging out with neuroscientists, and their dogs. Tuesday I'm going to observe work in the MRI control room, and if there's time, I'm going to ask them if they'll scan my brain.
Gotta get on the phones tomorrow and harass people who haven't returned e-mails. Sounds like fun, eh? It never really gets easier for me. Since emerging from a social cocoon after high school I've gotten a lot better with people, at least people I know, or people whose opinions aren't that important in the long run. But I still lock up with nerves before calling people I've never met for stories.
On the other hand, it's hard to be down about a world where that picture of Barack Obama in a cowboy hat exists.
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