I might need to start wearing a sign that says “I don’t know where I’m going to be next year and I don’t know when I’ll know” because having that conversation over and over is really depressing and aggravating.
I gave that response to an overzealous undergrad philosophy major (who may or may not have a misguided crush on me) and he asked, “Oh, is this actually a source of anxiety for you?”, to which I said, rather sharply, “Yeah, no shit.” I kind of feel sorry for scaring him, but honestly…
And now I’m so depressed that all I can do is binge-watch “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” and hate myself for not getting any work done.