02/03

There is a pile of clean laundry on my bed because I haven’t had the energy to fold anything. It has all been clean for over a week, and it’s all on my bed because it got frustrating to not knowing which shirt I was blindly pulling out of the bag. I submitted my first post-college fellowship application six o’clock this evening. It finally hit me: I am graduating from college.

Yesterday morning I sat on the couch across from a bearded babe and yelled “shit!” when I discovered the fellowship application deadline was four days earlier than the one I wrote in my organizer. It was one of the many things I hadn’t remembered to complete. Classes started last week and it wasn’t until yesterday that it felt like there was work to be done. It has been too easy to say I’ll do it later, never giving myself a deadline and missing the actual deadline. The thought of writing my thesis has made me a bit nauseous. I should already be in the process of writing it but I’ve spent the last few weeks talking about writing it, sometimes doing research, and wishing I could finally force myself to start.

Instead of finishing my personal statement after yelling, I made out with the bearded babe and borrowed a sweater because my shirt was lost somewhere, then I rushed to an event I thought wasn’t happening for another half hour. I arrived twenty minutes late, flustered, and introduced myself to dozens of law school students and faculty.

After providing my email to a first year law student who isn’t sure where she belongs in the movement, I had to go meet with my advisor. I told him I am trying to not be a mess and want do everything I’ve been avoiding. He listened to me blurt out of my thoughts about media, public affairs, and critical race theory, and helped me organize them in a way that made slightly more sense. I am graduating from college. By May, my thesis will be done, my fifth internship will be finished, a piece of mine will be published, and a notification of acceptance or rejection will have gone out.

I might get a better functioning dresser and put my finally folded clothes in it. I might be making out with new bearded babes. I might finish projects I started in order to avoid finishing others. I might be stop being afraid and start feeling settled.