And trying to raise a little extra money for an upcoming trip. Check out my store:
They’re 8×10″ prints, professionally done on high quality paper. Because of the added costs to pack and ship they’re not framed, but matting is available.
You’d think with all the things I keep dropping off my metaphorical plate, I’d want less work and not more.
But I’m going stir crazy.
For one, I have too much stuff. I’m not a cluttered person AT ALL and yet I’m still have things lying around that I haven’t used and probably won’t ever make use of, so why am I hanging on to them?
And once I’m done with thinning out my possessions, I want to rearrange a little. Change up the rabbits’ pen, reorganize my desk, that sort of thing.
It’s way too early for the spring cleaning bug to kick in. I’m weird, I know.
Since when is January over?!
I protest this mightily.
But then again, it means I’m just one month away from my trip to TURKEY! Woooooot!
Dad’s speaking at a conference in Istanbul (Constantinople for the Orthodox among us 
) and I’ve been invited to come along. For two weeks. In the words of George Costanza, “I’m busting!”
Which means, of course, that I’ll need to *bust* my little butt of this month getting schoolwork done so I don’t fall behind. And I’ll also need to practice a little fiscal responsibility so that I can afford this trip; that’s one of the reasons I’ve started selling my prints on Etsy. C’mon, you know you want one…
School is going well. I love anthropology. But it’s completely messing me up. The anthropological paradigm is so different, and so at odds with other dominant paradigms, that I’ve finally realized I’m turning into an anthropologist. And I love it.
I’m also turning into the quintessential college student, much as I try to resist it. Junk food, a messy room, and constant chaos are the norm. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. Dad is in an S.A.D. funk. Mom is going through menopause. Papa has Alzheimer’s. Hannah’s quintessentially 12 years old, and I feel bad for my brother because it must stink to be the only sane one in the house.
Other times I let go of my desire for order and embrace our weirdness. Gotta admit, it’s more fun that way.
I’m in music hell.
Mom decided that tonight’s dinner music would be a CD of accordion music that Papa has. It’s supposed to sound Italian.
It sounds like a bad, bad midi track.
What’s that you say? Something oozing out of my ears?
That’s just gray matter…
Or should I say, I have a bazillion-and-one things to post about, but don’t have the energy to seperate them out into coherent thoughts.
This is why I’ve never sucessfully kept a written journal.
I easily have 200+ pages of reading to do this week. I’m not quite halfway there…
Life is good. God is good.
I’ll write more later.
