life in blue glass beads

So I just spent an hour sorting an entire box of pretty beads, only to put them all back again. I knew I didn't have a nicely partitioned box to keep them sorted, by shade and shape etc, but I went ahead anyway cos I was having such fun envisioning how I'd string them up in my room the next time. (Then again I realised it'd be hard to hang them in the doorway, cos they'd keep getting entangled through anticipated frequent bashings in and out... so I dunno. The windows maybe?) Such neat and pretty little piles... then I had to go and mess everything up again. Just like my life sometimes.

I've always liked pretty things. Non-consequential, aesthetic, fluff... Ask anyone, I have a preoccupation with making things presentable, and I usually shun academic talk in favour of less 'mind-consuming' affairs...

Guess I've been feeling a little blue-sy lately. Purposeless, shall we say. Especially after the completion of a not-so-fruitful research attachment, I've been seriously wondering if I made the right choice taking up this scholarship. I don't know if I'll be happy doing this kinda stuff for the next 10 years of my life at least, but I don't know if I can find happiness outside either. Maybe it all boils down to financial and career security vs. having to plan everything all over again.

I'm very tired - physically and mentally. I'm excited to go back to Chicago, but at the same time I'm dreading the breakneck pace I'll have to move at, the lack of rest and personal time, and the stress from missing (or not missing) my family/ Sam...

Not depressed or anything, just thinking. I guess a box of mixed-up beads has its own beauty, too...