Is an existentialist crisis precipitated by memories of Cabaret normal?
I need more structure in my life. This whole working 80 hours a week is fine, but working whenever I want is screwing with my little brain full of mush.
Looking back, I like to think that my time in CoMO was spent "being creatively fulfilled"--a goal I try to strive for. To be honest though, it was more like five years of single minded focus on escaping the midwest.
In the physical sense I knew I wanted to relocate to one of the coasts, surround myself with people smarter and more creative than me. Not to sound like a pompous ass or anything, haha.
Introspection will be the death of me.
I saw Dr. Birchler this week when he came to Stanford. It was great to see a familiar face and be reminded of a different life.
Speaking of random things: I'm teaching an entomology taxonomy course to highschoolers in two weeks! Mom is sending me my duplicates so we can do some hands on stuff with the kids. I think it's going to be a lot of fun.
Now I just have to find some live specimens. How do you politely ask your friends if they could collect fleas or cockroaches? I think those are probably the only insects that survive the peninsula's suburban sprawl.
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I don't know if I can capture any White Flies, but I can certainly send some leaves with the eggs attached. Like many of the problems here, they are not indigenous and have no natural enemies.
On second thought, maybe you shouldn't send a serious economic pest to California. We already have our own troubles with a bankrupted government and all.
The kids will have to make do with fleas, cockroaches, and body lice. There's no shortage of those in this state.
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