This weekend has been long. I had to spend a buttload of my own money and my own gas to get the physics department picnic together. It was a good time, sure, but I think bad karma was hanging around, mostly because I undercooked the burger of none other than the advisor for my (future) graduate program. I think, in doing so, I endangered further my chances of getting into grad school; call it paranoia, call it karma, call it what you will, but I was the only one who saw the disgusted look on her face when she bit into a medium rare burger that she wanted cooked well done. I thought about the whole thing again at work, mostly because I've had trouble coming to grips with everything involved: all the emotions, and the planning, and the knowledge that once again, a plan in my life has failed to bear any fruit. Not once in my life has anything gone according to plan like I wanted it to. My life has changed course five or six times in as many years, and I wonder how much longer I can handle shifting my ambitions around. I also want to scream at Dr. McKay, and ask her 'goddammit, do you know just how much you've fucked up my plans?'. So, once again, in my downtime at the Shack, I once again proceeded to make another plan. I'm going to bite the bullet, take an ego deflation and the PRAXIS exam, and work to get certified as a high school teacher. If you refer to 'There's A Sub In Class Today' earlier in my journal, you'll know why I am hesitant to go after the teaching profession again. After thinking about it, though, it just makes sense. I only work 9 months out of the year. I can stay local. Teachers get benefits and insurance, everything Shannon and I need to survive, for now. During the summer, we can travel, we can live, and I can stop worrying and start doing what I feel I was meant to do. I just have no idea if I'll be happy doing it. Time is ticking fast for me, my college career may be almost over, if not for now, then for life. Am I ready for that? I have no idea.