Adult Saga / Ten Thousand Hours of Procrastination / The Two Thesiseses...Theses...whatever the plural of "thesis" is / etc.

What even is blogging?

A question mark drawn in chalk on a black board.

Obviously, I have no idea. My last post here was Valentine’s Day. That’s ridiculous. Granted, this time I actually have an excuse: school did kind of eat my face. It was all worth it, though! Check out these puppies: If you can’t see the image, it’s a list of all the classes I took and my final grade in each of them. A+ across the board. I SLAYED this semester. I AM THE LIZARD KING And then I slept for the past three weeks, basically. I have really just been sleeping for most of this entire time. Sleeping and

Adult Saga / The Two Thesiseses...Theses...whatever the plural of "thesis" is

Annnnnnd it’s gone

My last post here looks utterly hilarious in retrospect. Last week I got a notification from Student Loans that — after I had spent many hours of my time doing my application and filling out the paperwork that would let them send me money, and started preparing my appeal for the full amount of money — I was no longer eligible for loans and wouldn’t be getting any. Ever. Ok, not ever; I have a flair for the dramatic. BUT not until my principal of 50K is paid down, which fuck me, may as well be ever. There is

Beat the Backlist / Books / dispatches from the loony bin / etc.

End of Year Reflection: Go Fuck Yourself, 2017

I feel like I’m saying that a lot these days. Every New Year’s I turn to the past year and scream BURN IN HELL YOU ASSHOLE and then turn to the next year like it’s going to be better. And then it’s not. Or it is in some ways, but worse in other ways. Anyway, this year is no exception. 2017 was long and hard and yet surprisingly short, and while I’m glad it’s over I also want to hit Pause for a few days because I am so not ready for 2018, y’all.

Adult Saga / dispatches from the loony bin / Life with Mr. Katje / etc.

Discouragement

It’s been a while since I’ve written. We got a new tire for my car. Or rather, we got 5 new tires for my car and one of them turned out to work. The first time Mr Katje went to the scrap yard he got a deal on 4 tires for 200 bucks off a 2000 Dodge Caravan — ie, my exact car. They didn’t fit. I don’t fucking know WHY, they just didn’t fit. They should have. SAME CAR. That night included Mr Katje lying on the ground looking at this tire he couldn’t get onto my car

Wolf Pack Life

Praying for Wellness for Wolffy

You know what’s terrifying? Hearing that your mom “might have cancer again” 6 months out from your wedding. Putting it that way seems selfish, I guess, but I’m not trying to say that I care more about my wedding than I do my mom. I’m saying that having my wedding being so close puts things in starker perspective than the first time I heard my mom had cancer. The first time I heard my mom had cancer, my radar was clear of any major life events that I wanted her to be part of — so the bone-deep terror