Moving

I put up two white boards in my bedroom. One has long-term goals on it, and is big. The other has daily tasks on it, and is half the size.

I haven't altered the long-term goals one in a while, although I should - some of them have changed, and I think some of them could be more specific. I think I will do that right as soon as I publish this post.

I have not been clearing the daily tasks board daily, so maybe it is a weekly tasks board. If I sit up in bed, it hangs on the wall opposite me. I think having Must Dos hit me in the eye every time I get out of bed has helped me keep cognizant of what steps I need to take to get where I need to be.

I am researching graduate schools. Right now on the top of my list are Syracuse and Unviersity of Oklahoma, although I must admit the tornados yesterday kind of knocked OK down a little. A lot. (Why is it that none of the Craigslist rental ads assure me that I will have a basement or cellar? Shouldn't that be standard in Norman, Oklahoma, which is right in Tornado Alley? Doing a keyword search of those terms yields nothing. Crazy? Crazy.)

I am beginning to study for the GRE with Kaplan's guide, which is conversational and talks to me the way I like to be talked to: dirty. Haha, jk. It talks to me sensibly and tells me the math will not be a problem as long as I fully understand the critical reasoning behind the four or five basic types of math problems that appear on the test, and that that is totes doable. Thank you, Kaplan. I love you.

What else? I am wearing a pretty dress to work tomorrow. I shaved my legs in preparation (twice in one week, what has come over me?!). I am going to apply to a few more jobs right now. I just paid off two small remainders on credit cards. Peace, peace, peace of mind.

At work today I had little to do so I wrote a paragraph of ideas for the novel. The novel about two girls who are friends. Lately I have been writing about this band they are in and the songs they sing/yell. (Noise rock electronica experiemental band, of course.) Actually lately the theme is pulling itself toward an identity of: being about how: the protag wants to be an artist - a writer, a musician, a painter, a conceptual artist - but nothing ever quite materializes. I want the reader to want to strangle her for not making anything truly happen, always being full of ideas and not any realization of them. SOUND FAMILIAR??

That's my update. Ciao!