i think it's interesting, on reflection, to compare the journal i wrote a little less than a year ago to the one i wrote last - greatness and quicksand; dreams and fears; hopes and expectations.

these two ramblings tell the story of how i ended up in this place. i may not be very old, but i am not very young, either. by now i know many of my strengths, and i know where i fall short, too. what i don't know is where the threshold is; i don't know whether what i have is "enough", for different values of enough. but i do know that -- and i owe heather for showing me this -- i had to come here. i was comfortable at work, but i was complacent. i was studying interesting problems, but i was studying them from 9 to 6 (..fine, 9:40ish to 6:40ish). and i was enjoying the rest of my time, and learning and playing here and there. but i wasn't committed. i wanted to be, but i wasn't - i didn't have anything firm to commit too. now i am in a bubble that scares me a little, because i miss the city; but i am only beginning to appreciate how extraordinary this bubble might be. within its tree-lined expanses are brilliant people doing audacious things. there are dreamers, doers, and seekers. even if i am only along for the ride, or an insigificant witness to grand events, i will be better for having been here.

the truth is, i'm not a 9 to 6 person - not yet. i think i could be someday, but right now, trickling in and out of my first few classes, meetings, projects, i'm finding that i had forgotten just how much i love this environment, why i wanted to come to grad school in the first place. i like being immersed. that's not to say i like being excessive, because i need balance, too (and i'm genuinely afraid of losing it), but it's that i like feeling like the work i do is personal, not just professional. this is why i think i'd love the start-up environment. somehow, the disconnect of leaving work behind at 6 (and being forced into it at 9) makes it feel artificial, like surgically extracting a giant block of life each day that could better be spent actually living. but i also think there likely comes a time in life when those boundaries are meaningful, when both sides are completely consumed with separate passions (perhaps project ownership at work, and a family at home) - i'm just not there yet.

i say all this with a little rueful knowledge about how brutal academia feels in the middle of it, how despite anything i say now i am going to be exhausted and overwhelmed before i know quite what happened. this is the ebb and flow of commitment, of courage, of battling complacency. to not aspire to keep moving, to not keep fighting, to not keep looking forward, so young, seems to me pure tragedy. there are many ways to move forward, and i don't discriminate between them; but to be content so soon would have been like calling the game in the 1st quarter. whatever risks are here (including the one i fear most, abject failure) are still less risky than giving up part of the journey and its untold adventures. even so, as hard as it felt sometimes, with regards to discipline, intellect, and confidence, just showing up here was the easiest part. there are a million battles left to fight, and i hope that i have the courage within me to lose some of them without losing the war.

i don't really believe most people give up on the journey, though, ever, for that matter. i do think people stop and catch their breath once and a while. the trick is realizing when it's time to get going again, when comfort is complacency's disguise.