Over an exceedingly strong rye-and-ginger in something ressembling a martini glass, my buddy Dave observed that I've grown increasingly tense since my return to the city.
I think he's right.
When I first came back in May, I supply-taught at the school at which I'd previously worked for four years most of the time. On more than a few occasions, people told me they thought I looked relaxed, refreshed, and overall pretty awesome. I always replied, "Nah, I don't think I'm any more relaxed than I used to be; I've always been this way."
This is because I'm an idiot with an awful memory.
My thesis just won't die (I'm going to spend some time on it this weekend; things are gradually getting done, but I still have some major stuff to change around). One of my classes is driving me crazy (as I've written about before). I'm on a lot of committees and such at work, and the meetings just keep on coming and will NOT STOP. I'm supposed to go on this training workshop for work at the end of November, but I don't know if I can; this may affect my ability to defend my thesis before Christmas. And, if you haven't already been able to surmise this, my love-life is a 70-car pile-up on the 401, complete with a gasoline tanker explosion and a tractor-trailer full of radioactive chimpanzees running amok, ripping antennas off of cars.
So, do I look stressed-out? Do I seem a bit edgy? Perhaps this is why.
Grad school was so much simpler.