Lately I have been weighing the pros and cons of staying in Austin or moving elsewhere, preferably closer to my aging parents and my best friend and her 6-month old kid. And mountains. And green forests. And 75 degree summers. It is the looming deadline of my graduation that has me up nights staring at the ceiling fan. It's less than a year away, and never mind that half my dissertation isn't written yet (I don't even have results yet), but good grief! What do I do now? Nothing really sounds appealing. Lots of things sound unappealing. Like academic jobs (though I've always known that one), or super-hoity toity research firm jobs where your salary is dependent on going out and finding clients and securing grants. The thing I like best, which is independent consulting, is economically infeasible without a second salary to back me up while building a client base. The biggest joke of all appears to be on me after all this PhD business: I left the best job I'll ever have four years ago, and now I fear I will spend the rest of my life trying to find something as good. Since I am afflicted with the ole "grass is greener" mentality, I can't see how this could have happened any other way though.
More and more, a certain feature of Austin living leads me in the direction of leaving town - the god damn mosquitoes. I swear. It is enough to drive me yelling and swatting right on out of this apparently swampy mosquito hole of central texas. And I refuse to invest hundreds of dollars in dry landscaping and propane-electric CO2 mosquito traps that *might* work. Alaska supposedly is famous for its bad mosquitoes, but at least there you have a fighting chance - they are so huge, you can feel them land on you, so before they start biting you can swish them away. Down here, they're so tiny and fast you have no idea they are even there until it's too late and about twelve of them have already had their way with you. My arms and legs are covered in little scabs because I have absolutely no self-control when it comes to itching. Anyway. I am so indecisive and non-committal that it might take something as inocuous as flying insects to help me make up my mind.
P.S. I am weary of thinking of pithy little titles for my entries, so I am going back to how diary entries always have been. Just the date.
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