Here's the thing:

I disappeared for awhile, got pretty lost. I'm still there in a lot of ways. I'm sitting at my desk drinking coffee thinking about what I want to say about Lacan, who I'm allegedly writing this thesis project about but really I just want to realize myself as an unbound mess of desires, rather than any sort of specific want. Which is what the object of Lacanian psychotherapy is, so I guess I'm not all too far off. Realistically I am not doing all that I should be doing. I should be taking and retaking standardized tests to measure how literate and erudite and good at problem-solving I have become since coming to college, I should be applying to continue on and attain another degree with which I will not find a job. I should be writing this thesis, and finishing the other one that is due quite soon. I am actually doing these things, but it's out of a sense of duty. My mother wants these things, I (in theory) want these things, but I had a plan and then the plan fell away so this is some kind of poorly thought out backup, thus I'm unsure of how much to want it. Instead I'm writing this ghazal but I only know the last line and it is "Oh Olivia, stop fucking around."