I am beginning to think it is a dead sexy enterprise. Maybe too focused on cognitive neuroscience logic--which I got more than enough of a taste of at Havahd--but I can see how I could make it cool by taking the log base 'dead sexy' and applying it.

Reading up on my cellular and molecular neuro course. Y'know it's not all that bad. Took a week for my intro neuroscience class and general chem to mesh along with my psychophysiology class, but somehow combining them all has made the course--at least for now--do'able. Oh don't get me wrong I'm bloodlessly terrified about what could be on the midterm (a thank God take home) or the final (a 2hr in class thing that's 2/3's of my grade). I guess if I really tanked the midterm I could just drop it, but I'm going to have faith that I can understand the material.

And if I can come to like electrophysiology, who knows.

But in some respects I'm just shaking my head at myself. I'm better at it than I used to be when I was younger, but I still think about it occasionally. No. Often. I know I should be upset about X, Y, and Z, but it's an entirely intellectual upset. All I want to do is get confirmation and either transcend into a good place or to go about the grey path I never chose yet had a choice in. I continue the search, just as I did when I'd long thought she was gone.

I should have just said it. I'm not sure I'll get another opportunity. It's not fair if that's the case, but then fairness can be a tenuous contract in many areas.

I am not desperate, but I am certain. That's just how it is. I can't hide it from myself or put it in a box. It's something of a weakness, as I've seen several times before. Oh I tried, but I failed. I guess it's good that I can't erase or desecrate all of my positive emotions. This is one thing I can't swallow, no matter how little sense I might have because of it.

Mostly I'm resigned to having another story to tell, amidst so many yesterdays still somehow in the present.

I have a flicker of hope that flashes yellow or gray, depending on the dance of clouds and sun.

It's never becoming what you are that surprises you, but the puddle of realization into which you splash--and suddenly you're staring back at a stranger. I think true anguish or regret are the same: it's only a foil, a possibility, some thing other than what you are or what is that brings the mind's eye into focus.

And standing where I am, that is a terrible, sad beauty.

Back to studying.

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