Saturday, August 27, 2016


I am not sure right now is the best time to start writing. I feel sluggish and a little on edge. I was ON TOP OF MY GAME this morning, though. I have no idea where my overflowing cup of energy came from (note: not from a cup), but I had it and I used it alllll up. Now that cup is full of, like, three raindrops. Like. LIKE. LIKE ME!!! Accept me! Humor me! Backpack through Europe with me! But probably don't marry me because I think I want to be an eccentric old maid who wanders around abandoned parking lots feeding seagulls.

I think Saturdays in general just wear me out. Not that I'm out there doing any of the "traditional" Saturday activities, like mowing my lawn or ramming my shopping cart into whiny children at Target. (NOT that I would ever do that to a child, but I wouldn't hesitate to do that to their slack-jawed parents.) Maybe it's the pressure of the weekend that gets to me? The pressure to be both productive and relaxed, the pressure to be social and LIVE IT UP!!! The pressure to merely make it through the day without having a meltdown over the amount of activities going on outside. In other words, I don't do so well under pressure.

Except that's not entirely true. In certain areas of life I do extremely well under pressure. Examples: Writing papers in college, writing papers after college, writing in general. Maybe that's what's missing in my current writing life -- pressure. I need an outside source giving me assignments and deadlines. I get too comfortable and occasionally lost in my self-made schedules and routines. Sigh. I just need to get a damn job already.

Am I ready for a job? I feel like I am still recovering. I am still trying to heal and attend to my own needs before I take on the weight of "real" responsibility. For the love of... I sound so spoiled. I probably am so spoiled, at least when compared with a large chunk of the world's population. The current path I'm on seems to be occupied only by myself and I'm simply wandering around in a circle, distracted. I want my path to lead somewhere, I want to encounter other humans and creatures (and ideas and experiences and philosophies and perspectives and sounds and smells and tastes and) on this path. I need to be reminded the world is more than just a lonely dead end.

I am headed outside to, yes, look at the clouds, but also to walk to the library and see if I can find a book that tells me exactly what to do and how to do it. I'm joking, mostly. I am going to the library, but I realize that book doesn't exist. Books are guides, but they are not substitutes for living a life. I'm stuck. I'm not sure yet how to find my way out.

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