So I'm getting ready to move across the country. Lots of packing. Lots of weird things happening. My parents are moving the day after tomorrow. Then I'm off to do other stuff in Baltimore. I fear that I am in trouble. But I'll be fine, I guarantee it.
My last post was pretty interesting. It is a topic I know somewhat well, military history, but on a scale that I am incapable of properly handling it in. But Foucault generalizes so heavily, and I am simply doing my best to grasp his arguments. Hopefully I'll be able to produce chapters 2-6 on the plane, or on vacation right before I get to Seattle.
But hey, just checking in. Just worried I am not working enough, that I am letting my tasks get behind me. But I'll get it done. I have no choice.
But my writing, my reading. It is tough to not be able to do it. To have to put it on the back seat. To treat it like the secondary priority that it really is. It is a little bit tough, a little bit weird. But I'm eager to make this move successfully.
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