For some reason, the thought popped into my head this morning: "Hmm... it might be a good idea to go back to grad school and get that PhD." This happened shortly after I woke up, and hasn't dissipated from my mind yet.

Am I going to be bothered by this until I either die or get that ", Ph.D." appended to my name? Why do I care? I shouldn't, and I keep saying I don't... but deep down, there's something in me that does.

I actually do have a few good ideas for a thesis, and, if I had Rob as my advisor, I'd probably get done with it in 2-3 years (I've already gotten an M.S., so a lot of the basic stuff has been taken care of). And I could continue to get a paycheck from Neolinear while doing so...

Anyway... Tamara's going skiing today. She wanted me to come, but... oy, do I dislike the activity. Something about the idea of throwing myself from the top of a hill with large sticks strapped to my feet that turn in every direction except the one I want them to be in, where the object is to attain some deadly speed... eaugh. And don't get me started about the ski lifts. The height is fine... it's the whole getting off bit that I have problems with.