Manic is a great word. When I read or hear the word manic I picture some crazy spazz running around with jazz hands. That little guy is running laps around my head right now.

I’d like to go back to the point in time where my life took the turn that I need to keep a planner to keep my days straight. I have scratches and scribbles of all these plans and events and things I need to get done everywhere in my little book, and I’d like to know when my life hit manic status.

I’ve always been a planner. I have my life planned out years in advance, and it’s progressively getting worse as I get older. In 2009 I will graduate college with a shiny new bachelor’s degree in Social Work. Now, I really hate school. I hate it quite a bit, but I’m already thinking about what I want to get a Master’s degree in. I know I want to work with kids, so I think I’ll either continue with a Master’s in Social Work, or maybe counseling. I sometimes over plan too. I have expectations for myself and feel crushed when they’re not met.

I yi yi. I’m spent.

Dangerous curves ahead.

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