I'm up late. Again.
Attempting to do some research for my analysis of the current state of research on precocious puberty. Having been through precocious puberty and knowing first hand the difficulties and confusion it brings to a child, and wanting to know as much as possible about the condition, I can't seem to bring myself to be interested enough to study for more than 30 minutes consecutively. Aaargh! I have to finish this tomorrow and submit, but I keep waited to hear back from my professor to see if she approves of my topic, but if I don't submit tomorrow I won't be able to take the final exam for the course before I leave for England and then I'll be anxious and stressed out the whole time I'm visiting my sister and I will feel like a waste of everyone's time.
I just want all of this to be over with.
I want to wake up tomorrow morning with all of the experiences, pain, love, joy, hard times, and life well lived as the tender memories of an old woman with the leisure to sit on the porch swing in the spring breeze.
But, since I cannot fast-forward life and retain all of the memories that I have not yet made, I suppose I should get on and make them already.
Fine. I'll finish my paper.