|Benedict Cumberbatch=The man I'm going to marry.|
Everyone I have asked (about grad school, not Benedict's eyes) have told me to make a pros and cons list. Well I have done so, but everything seemed to turn out about even (just like Benedict's eyes). Really, I do not know how to decide. I have a fickle heart.
I talk Holly through my thought processes nearly every night and usually it ends up in a bout of passionate tears because I am trying to express how much I miss Arizona and my family and how in love with the idea of studying Shakespeare I am. On some days my battle is between the programs: would I rather learn how to become a teacher or would I rather become a scholar? On others it is sadly based on dating opportunities: would I be more likely to find a husband out of 100 suitable guys or out of thousands? Would I rather be surrounded by questionable hygiene-deficient hippies or too many well-groomed returned missionaries?
Perhaps if I don't have a suitable answer by Saturday, I'll do as my brother-in-law suggested and flip a coin. Heads I win. Tails you lose.