I have to face the facts.
I have been in this major, wierd funk since before Christmas. I think it may have something to do with the fact that it gets dark now at 5:00 PM and, although it is warming up as of late, it has been the Frozen Tundra of Death out there and even inside it's been fucking cold cause the landlord is stingy with the heat. I go to work when it's dark, I come out of work and it's still dark, and I'm cold all the time. I do not like the winter at all. I am self-diagnosed seasonal affective disorder (SAD).
In addition to the wintery weather and lack of sunlight in my life, I just went through the stress of Christmas. Let me tell you that right after Christmas is not the best time to try to blast off that one last time--if there are bad habits you have that comfort you from all the anxiety of the world, you're going to be wanting to do those things for a good while after the most stressful twelve day period of the whole year. Suddenly, you're supposed to give up all your bad habits and start making good habits, but the indulgence of Christmas, not to mention the anxiety, still abounds, and it's time to go back to work and fix all the mistakes that other people made in 2005. I just get home lately and poke smot, chill with Lito in front of mindless sit-coms, and stuff my face full of food. I am like a sloth. Hibernating. No exercise. I'm falling apart at the fat, greasy seams. I'm like a bulimic, only without the vomitting.
Further, I am having a silent war with my thesis. In re-reading what I have written and reviewing my notes, I'm terrified that I have no idea what I am talking about. I'm afraid my advisor is going to think I've just faked it up to this point. I'm in over my head. I refuse to write anything on it, it refuses to pull itself together for me. I'm a semester behind. I have made exactly zero contact with my advisor, the department head, or the assistant to the department since I registered "Maintenance of Matriculation" and I'm not even sure if that's all I'm supposed to have done. It is a real tragedy that I have come this far and only have this one last thing to do. Yet I have not just sat down and started doing it. The tragic part is that I don't care about these concepts anymore. I have to stop telling myself that. I have to find the will to be interested and figure out what the hell I want to write about is, exactly.
Then there's work. Is there ever work.
So to alleviate all this stress and officially start the New Year -- the Strollian New Year which falls whenever I say it falls -- I have created a plan of action for stress relief and rebirth, from the point of which's completion I will be rejuvinated and ready to face these...challenges. The master plan is:
Full body massage.
A little botox around the eyes.
Make good on my yoga gift certificate.
I figure one solid week to complete the plan of action. Then I shall return, reborn, with purpose, and I will write a baffling thesis and grab physical fitness by the balls.