91 days

Every day of my calendar has a tiny speck of pencil in the corner telling me how many days there are until graduation. I was so excited about having added myself to the degree list this semester that I immediately sat down and counted all of the days, which simultaneously made the end seem closer and farther away.

Right now, and probably until at least spring break, 91 days feels like an eternity of pushing boulders uphill. Not terribly difficult intellectually, but definitely requiring a good deal of effort. I declared to everyone who cared a while ago that I would never take 19 units again, and here I am with 21 (formerly 25, but then senioritis hit). It kind of sucks.

And in case anyone was wondering, I don't advise starting and completing a second major in two semesters unless you have absolutely nothing else to do with your time.

All of this is just me procrastinating reading Judith Butler, because I sincerely believe she is part of the reason I closed the rhetoric chapter of my education so quickly and ended up taking many many units and eating pasta more often than I could have dreamed. I guess it all comes full circle.

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