Procrastination.

Stop this train. I want to get off and go home again. I can’t take the speed it is moving in. I know I can’t but, honestly, won’t someone stop this train.

John Mayer’s poignant song about growing up has been rolling around in my head (and my heart) for roughly two months now. It’s a good song so I haven’t been trying all that hard to be rid of it.

Does it ever go away? The uncertainty about the future, I mean. I have a sneaking suspicion that it doesn’t. I am already coming to terms with it. God is teaching me, over and over again, that I can’t know what is coming next and that to stress about it is so completely useless that I might as well worry that the roof will get wet when it rains. What a folly, how feeble-minded. I am not really saying anything of substance.

I have class in twenty minutes and have not yet written a cover letter for a Journalism scholarship that I really should have mailed by Friday. (No mother, I still haven’t taken care of it). So, of course, I am using this time to write this blog. It is nice to have an outlet like this.

Oh gracious. Time to visit Huntsberger in Broadcast Practices. Right.