I’m deep.

No, seriously. I was just mentally revising the Church of Graeme doctrines for the first time in awhile.

Deep, baby.

Actually, I’m still stunned by the one thing that has ever happened to me that has left me unbalanced for more than, say, a month*. Stupid grad school. Relationships with friends, family, and girls are easy to separate myself from and deal with (although sometimes the modifier eventually should be added to clarify the statement), because I can always fall back on the one thing that I’ve had my entire life, my mind. I may not be the greatest at math, but I can attack the social sciences like few others, and I have achieved a large degree of control over my physical urges and emotions, sometimes through hard practice.

Can I immolate myself? No. But I’m cool under pressure and I deal well when presented with a crisis.

But this scenario is questioning my intelligence, or at least my academic value. None of the worst emotional crisises I’ve faced* in the past have managed to undermine my control like that. Those were over the top assaults; overwhelming but not sublimely destructive. This is a unique experience, and one I’m only slowly dealing with as I clear one hurtle after another, knowing there’s always a chance I’ll trip on the next one.

*(See entry: Ryann Frye, Rebecca Traylor; year 2001.)