I'm quitting my job.

Yes, that's right. Job number five in six years is goin' down the tubes. It's not that I don't love Stanford. Everyone knows I LOVE Stanford. The people, the campus, the center - what is there not to feel absolutely crazy about?! My adoration for my alma mater and its community is not the issue. In fact, when I was desperately scrounging for a job, Stanford was my only dream. I flatly refused to apply anywhere else and was willing to keep pounding on their doors until someone would take me in. Of course, two months after I had settled into my beautiful new cube with a front seat view of the gardens, palm trees, and fountain, I got the call that Achieva was for sale.

Sometimes, I think the Fates are just giggling themselves to death out there.

So, for the last year, I have struggled through twelve to fifteen hour days, seven days a week. I've been clinging to both Stanford and Admissions Academy, refusing to face the reality that I've been running myself into the ground. I must be at least three feet under by now, and a few more months of these will put me six feet down for sure. The weirdest part is that I love the Admissions Academy work, but I love Stanford's environment and people. If only there was some strange way to throw the two together.

I've realized, though, that there isn't. And I'm tired. No, I'm exhausted. On Monday, I'm finally admitting defeat, throwin' the towel in, and quitting Stanford. My only question is whether or not Admissions Academy should be considered job number six....