School: Turned in my recital assessment, reviewed for the final, went to hear the Wuthering Heights College Jazz Band which was about as technically accomplished as a junior high school band so I left after ten painful minutes. Good thing it was free. Tomorrow night is the final lecture for California Ethnic History and the professor had better not pull a quiz on us. He'd be insane to do so at this point, anyway. Of course, he'll return last week's test, doubtless covered in pink marks for wrong answers, and I'll get mad all over again. But hey, then it's only a matter of studying for the History final. The Piano final is open book. This is great, I'm almost done.

Other stuff: I sold my keyboard today. I coaxed a client into buying it from me for the same price I paid for it. I threw in the adaptor for free and of course it's in pristine shape and she didn't have to pay taxes so she got a deal. I'm driving it to work tomorrow in my new car now that I've got insurance. I hate driving to work, but I do want to try out my car and I don't want to wrestle the awkward box onto and off of the train. Boy, this sure beats the price I get on selling back my books.

You know, I hope when school is all done I become less self-centered. I don't know if I even remember to say, "How are you?" to my friends anymore. It's all moi, moi, moi. My test woes, my difficulties with stupid clients, my stress from Journalcon and graduation deadlines, my headaches, my this, my that. Really, it's not pleasant to see how caught up I am in my needs and how little I reach out to anyone else. It's going to get better as soon as this semester is over. I hope. But you know, I say that every semester. Maybe the difference is this is the last one.

Jared said I reminded him of Jessie with my constant whirlwind of activity and projects. Not quite in her superhuman league, of course, but more consistently busy than almost anyone else he knows. Or reads, maybe, he may have meant among the diarists he reads. My jaw dropped when I saw that comment in the little AIM text box. Jessie, in case you don't read her wonderful diary, is a fiesty, whipsmart gal with a degree from MIT and a passion about whatever she does. She quilts, she makes her own bread, she cans fruit she picks herself, she renovates her entire house, she bikes instead of driving because she objects strongly to using up our natural resources on cars, she takes French and yoga and practices the GRE for fun. She's really quite the Renaissance Woman of Non-Stop Energy and Humor. She makes most people feel like a big fat slacker, though without meaning to. She's just like that.

I'm not. True, I've been busy ever since I moved back to the Bay Area, but to so much less effect. I have no quilts to show for my time, no jars of jelly, no new bikepaths to attest to my commitment to smog-free air. I, however, work for a living and Jessie does not, so she has a bit more time on her hands; we don't really have comparable lifestyles. That's why it would never occur to me to compare myself to her. But despite the frenetic pace I've been keeping I don't feel I have a lot to show for it. I have a degree pending, that's an accomplishment. Oh, Journalcon. I did work pretty hard on Journalcon. And I have a social life. I don't go out every night, it's not crazy busy, but somehow all my weekends have at least one social event scheduled through the first of February already. So yeah, I tend to have a lot going on.

It's just that I seem to bustle around and wind up exhausted with no real tangible results. I think I make a fuss over how overwhelmed I am so that everyone knows I'm not lazy. Oh, heaven forfend people might find out I sat on my ass for three hours instead of doing my homework! Jeez.

The way I see it, I had nothing to do in Nashville for eight years, I'm just making up for lost time. Or maybe I've changed. Maybe I've forgotten how to relax. Mostly, I think, there's just so much neat stuff to do that it gets hard to remember I actually need long periods of quiet time alone in order to stay calm and healthy. That had better be my New Year's resolution: just say no to too much neat stuff.

May all my troubles be no more burdensome than this.

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