My hair grows fast.

That is, quickly.

After cutting off about 18 inches a few weeks ago it's already tickling past the tops of my ears and swooping over my eyebrows. I'm enjoying the change, though.

There are many changes right now, and more to come in rapid sequence. In the first place, I'm working out consistently and on purpose and under no motivation but my own for the first time perhaps ever. I'm apprehensive about putting it up here because I am (always have been) just slightly superstitious and I can't help but think that bragging is just about the surest jinx there is--but it's true. Even last week when I felt the reverse of good I still managed to do three miles twice. It's not impressive working out--I'm not training for a marathon (idea?), I'm actually just walking (rapidly) the three-mile trail at Lafortune or doing three miles on the treadmill at school. The point is, I'm doing it.

I've always hated running/speed walking/jogging because 1. it's uncomfortable 2. I look ridiculous and 3. I could never focus. Seriously, any time I tried I would get so caught up in how hard it was to breathe and how much it hurt that I'd just give up. Aiming for a set distance never helped--I'd talk my self out of it--and the same thing with a set time. For a brief while one collegiate summer I tried doing that walk-run challenge--where you build up to running through increased intervals on a walk. Over the course of the summer I think I actually did it...three times? So much for that.

These days, if I want to see if I can run, I've figured out how to do it--by songs. I recently inherited an iPod nano. It's changed the workout process. Step 1. Select playlist. Step 2. Walk. Fast. Step 3. Start running at the beginning of a song. Run til the song ends. Step 4. Back to a fast walk. Repeat. The result? I am running. I don't particularly like it, but I can, and that's the difference. No significant weightloss, according to my clothes, but it's only been a few weeks. On a good week (two out of the three so far) I walk/run four days and play racquetball and soccer one day each, respectively. Soccer could soon up to two days a week-- and I keep telling myself I'm going to walk on the weekends. It just hasn't happened yet.

The first few post-workouts are the best. Normally they're the only ones I experience--the first ones. A few weeks in and I don't feel as smug or as exhilarated as I did the first time. I feel leaden and slightly pained. I intend to continue (how I feel, I find, matters less than what I do).

Another change--I'm working on my Master's thesis. This means I'll be out of school soon--very soon. Out of school. The phrase is as yet hollow and meaningless. But not for long.

When I am done with school I know exactly what I am going to do--read all the pointless books I own and NOT THINK CRITICALLY about them.

Who am I kidding. I can't help that.

Some things will not change.