12:02

There is one distinct time when I wish-I wish-I wish that I had life figured out; that I was (sorry to Caitlin and anyone else who might miss me come May) a graduate; that I was, you know, not in school, but off serving, doing wildly creative things to bless people, preferably in a country where they don't always speak English; preferably with some pretty awesome husband of a guy who accepts me, even with my short hair and propensity to say dumb things; maybe, you know, a tribe.

And that time is shortly after midnight when I am "working" on an essay that's due tomorrow, listening to Songs of Water and/or French music.

My question:

Who are we but the time we spend?

Who are we besides what we do with the time we spend?

I know--
I have to spend my time doing what I'm supposed to be doing. It's not about me, and my time has to reflect that.

But first, before the husband and the missions and the orphanages and the languages and the tribe, even before my next haircut, I have to finish this dingdangpaper.