Palimpsest.

I went to post to this journal for the first time in over a month, and a "Saved Draft" popped into my screen. It told me "today was a pretty good day." I don't know why, but this made me smile. It meant that some other day I was happy, and that things are sometimes less confusing than we make them out to be. It gave me hope. Like those purple thistles along the roadsides right now. Yes, they'll die and wither and blow away into the wind, but right now they're beautiful and I can't see them without thinking that yes, this world is a remarkable place. Sometimes, even a moment of happiness is enough.

And then I got to thinking about that unposted journal entry, and what it meant in the larger scheme of things. Isn't it really indicative of our whole lives? We mean to say something, then forget about it, and it remains unsaid when it should have been thrown out there even if it was hard, even if it was terrifying. Or we say it and then it comes back to haunt us, a palimpsest we've written over, but can never fully erase.

Carrie says I'm having a mid-life crisis; I think this is probably true, or what John Mayer calls a "quarter-life" crisis. And perhaps we have those all along, but we're not told to expect them, so we don't label them as such, and then we glide over them and hit 50 and wonder why everything is so confusing and foreign. It's not because that is anything new; it's because we just never had a name for what a Mid Life Crisis is till then.

I've decided to finish in August rather than May. I was killing my mental stability worrying about finishing exams and things on time, and it was unhealthy. I also really need the student aid in order to move, which I don't qualify for if I've already graduated. This way I can relax, try to focus on the one thing that has been my nemesis for the past four years, make it through a month of summer classes, and then set about moving with the peace of mind - and Pell Grants - that I need to do so. I know it's not ideal, but I'm learning that very few things in this life are, and that sometimes we don't always know what is best for us. Sometimes the things we see as compromises or the "other option" actually work out in ways we didn't expect. If I had gone to Harvard or Colgate or even Ole Miss I'd never have met the remarkable women who have come to be such a great and rewarding part of my life. I wouldn't have known the support of Wrenegades or late-night panic relief from Carrie or sitting up proofreading someone's Capstone paper at 3 a.m. I wouldn't have met Stephen, and my life could be something completely different now than it is. That isn't to say it wouldn't have been just as good; merely that I like where I am at this point, I feel truly blessed in my friends and family, and I'm glad that I chose to stay here at the W. I'm hopeful that maybe, due to whatever cosmic force is in charge of this crazy messed-up universe, these decisions I'm making will turn out as well as that one. I'm trying to have faith. That is hard for the control freak cynic in me; the person who sees all this inexplicable, horrific muddle and pain in the world and finds it impossible to believe there could be a Bigger Purpose behind it, the person who thinks if she were god then she'd make damn sure people didn't suffer for no reason, the person who always wants a plan and then a backup to that plan, just in case. It's hard to just let go and make a final pronouncement that then carries you away with it. But that's what I'm working on. Hopefully it's a maturation process, because I'm certainly not there yet.

I've also made a decision about grad school. I'm not entirely happy about it, but this actually encourages me, because in the words of Aslan, that ever-so-wise metaphorical figure, "If you had thought you were ready it would have been proof that you were not." I like Athens as a town and expect I could be pretty satisfied there, at least for a while. The school is not all that I had hoped for, and it is not my dream program. Unfortunately, that school is in a tiny town in Florida where there is - and I am somewhat ashamed to admit this is actually a criteria for picking a place to move to - no super Wal-Mart within 30 miles, and one Barnes and Noble that is about the size of our Books-A-Million here in Columbus. The economy's depressed and I didn't see much evidence of things to do or available jobs. So while I loved the program and the faculty, I'm choosing Georgia instead, because I do eventually have to build a life outside of school. One day.

This isn't to say I'm thrilled about the move. I heard some fairly negative things about the English program, though I heard recommendations as well, and the graduate director is a sweeter, nicer version of Daffron (pleasanter, but just as punctilious). I liked the faculty and some of them have research interests that very much mirror mine. I'm excited about the chance to learn new things and interact with new people and prove myself to a new group of peers and faculty. But I have my reservations about this decision, and it was not an easy one. I'm consoling myself with the knowledge that it will be much easier for Stephen to move to Georgia with me than to Florida, and even if I were in a slightly better program, I'd still be miserable if I were in a small town 10 hours away from my friends and my family. And Athens does have 73 bars, after all. A town like that has to be worth living in. In the end it all comes down to compromise; you learn what's important to you and what can be set aside, what can be postponed and must be done now, what you're willing to give up to get what you really need. I'm hopeful I made the right choice. Right now, I'm trying not to think about it too much. I do have a tendency to overthink things, and then I panic. And that is the last thing I need.