Oh hello blog, I guess you do exist after all. I suppose I should be using you instead of Twitter or Facebook to display my dismay and stress. Or something like that.
I guess I turned 21 last week. It hasn't even soaked in that my birthday occurred. Last week at this time I was giggling over texts from that guy I adore after a bro night with my guys friends. Now I'm mulling over (literal) stacks of papers, deciding whether certain sentences need a streak of bright colour so I'll remember to look back at it at a later time. My birthday was that quiet. Heck, it was even the first birthday I've ever had that I haven't cried. There was a few points during that day that I wanted to sob, but I pulled up my fancy big girl panties (because cotton is a betch) and pulled through. Let's just say some girls suck big time.
Anyway, I begin my research project Monday by learning how to culture mast cells. By skimming (and I mean skimming) through the paper on the top of my "read these for your lab" stack, sounds like it's not easy. Mast cells, due to their location and (lack of) availability in a host, are a BITCH to culture. And if this manuscript isn't lying, it's an 8 week culture. 8. WEEKS. I really hope that isn't true. Maybe this is a really old manuscript because I am an impatient person by nature (we've gone over this, blog).
Oh yeah, got that research position. Oops.
What else...
Part of me has grown up. I buy silky pyjamas (which is apparently a really adult move, thank you Mother). I dress more age-appropriate (or rather, more lab and professional setting appropriate). I like adult things.
So I guess it's adult for me to want to (yet again) cut toxic friendships out of my life. I'm sick of second chances that blow up in my face. I hate trying to always give emotionally and not get one single thing in return. Is that too much for me to do? Am I going to run myself down emotionally this school year instead of physically and mentally?
I guess I'm weird. Not a bad thing to be, though.
