Waiting has done funny things to my demeanor. I'm frustrated, yes, but that's not even what's making me this way. I am past being sad or mad about waiting to hear about things. I'm just... melancholy. That's the only way to describe it. For the longest time, when all of this summer job stuff was falling into place, and I wasn't getting anything, I was sad. I know this is wrong, but I couldn't help thinking that there was something wrong with me, and that was why I didn't get a research spot right away, and that's why I didn't get an RA job in an apartment. I know it's not right of me to think this way, but I kept comparing myself to Justin... who did get an RA spot, and who got research last summer, even though he didn't really want to go into the field anymore. It's wrong, and Justin, if you read this, I'm sorry for thinking it, even for a second. I was jealous, and it made me sad and grumpy. But I like to think that that's not what it is anymore... it's just the waiting. Constantly unsure of what I'm going to do with the entire summer. It's making me funny.
This is the only way that I can think to describe it: Consider what it would be like to constantly be in an airport. You arrive early, you do everything right, you get through security, and you think you're set to go. But then the plane is delayed. And again, and again, and again. It's out of your control, even though you didn't do a thing wrong to deserve it. That's been me for the last month and a half. Sitting if the god-forsaken airport, waiting for the plane that will possibly never leave.
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