Well hello, morning.

Today was the first day of the rest of the semester. I have this strategy that I follow every semester. During the first few weeks (basically as long as I can manage it), I let myself sleep in in the mornings. During the very first week, I don’t even set an alarm. SSShhhh, I know. I can’t believe it either. It’s my little secret. And, now, yours. Once I determine that my reading list has gotten out of control and that my productivity level needs a good shot of adrenaline, I start the daily library trek. That’s right, 8 AM, hello wonderfully vacant first floor reading room with the tables near outlets and the big, bright windows.

As we walked to campus this morning, I mentioned to my neighbor that it seemed colder than usual today. She questioned this statement, saying she didn’t notice any difference. As I wondered why I would notice it and not she, I realized that it’s the first time in a long time since I’ve walked to campus so early in the morning. First day of the rest of the semester, indeed.

Back at UCF, I could usually bribe one friend or another to join me during these library stints, but I haven’t found a dedicated library buddy here at Seton Hall. It makes me a little sad (not to mention a little terrified of my impending crazy cat lady doom) to spend my days alone in the library, but I know I’m doing this to achieve my goals and to get myself where I want to go. It’s a tradeoff I’m willing to make right now.

That being said, I may have finally decided on a shortlist for applications. It’s exciting and terrifying all at once. I may share in a few days, we’ll see. In the meantime, if you happen to hear of a university with a fantabulous Medieval lit program, let me know.

What happened here?

I’ve realized over the last few weeks that my level of productivity has drastically decreased. I’m not sure what to attribute this sudden drop in effectiveness to, but I know that I must do something if I plan to pass any of my classes this semester.

I think I overloaded myself so much during my undergraduate career that now that I have a normal workload, I don’t know how to handle it. I’ve always had to beg, steal, and borrow free time, but now I actually have iron my own. My acquiring of this phenomenon has led me to become addicted. I’m addicted to doing nothing, and this is not me. At all. I’ve never been one to sit around all day, doing nothing, going nowhere, and not caring. I’ve always been the I’ll see you at Starbucks at 6am, waiting outside the library for it to open at 7:30am, getting kicked out at 1am the next day kind of girl. I always thought this is the girl who was going to go to graduate school.

But, what happened here?

Perhaps spending a summer with basically zero responsibility aside from my part-time job killed my productivity gene. What a bummer. Now I feel like I’m grasping at straws to get it back. I feel it creeping slowly from the hidden space (perhaps somewhere around my spleen – that forgotten corner of our beings where things we can’t really find a use for hide). Very slowly, I’ve been enticing it back with a fancy new computer I can carry to the library without breaking my back, a pretty new calendar application that lets me compulsively plan my days, readings of books and blogs that promise to help me maximize my efficiency, and a schedule of times during which I will barricade myself in the library with nothing but my books and my brain.

Productivity gene, I miss you. We used to have such good times. Remember when we wrote that thesis or taught all those classes every day? Please come back. I promise to reward you with cookies.