Earlier hung out in Hilman for a while. Whatever my other insecurities about my capacity as an academic might be, I don't think I can imagine ever giving up my love of sitting in a library and trolling up and down the aisles, picking out books like so much candy. Mmm. Perhaps I just need to become extremely eccentric and homeless and stake out some university somewhere and stay alive selling garage- and library-sale books. Orrrrrr maybe I could get a decent job teaching and researching and take the money so foolishly given to me and buy books with it. Choices, choices. Speaking of which, though, I saw a note in Wean above some discarded computer boxes saying "CPS please do not throw these away yadda yadda if nobody claims them by [date] they will be taken off campus" and I recognized it as bookguy's handwriting. You guys. Seriously. I am already verging on having been in Pittsburgh too long. There is no need to fear that I will be getting out of here after I graduate.
In other news, I ripped open the box I labelled "Packrat Consequences", which contains all the various bits of paper and such that I couldn't bear parting with, even though they frequently have no particular concrete value. Lots of doodles and pictures of random things. But chiefly my old journals. It seems my education as a smartass was already well underway during high-school. From an entry in vol. 7 dated March 3rd, 1997: "I have an external locus of control, and there's nothing I can do about it!" I think I may have been taking AP Psychology at the time.