Lately I find myself wandering deeper into anger. A good deal of it is anger at self. I’m not writing, I’m terribly behind and inefficient in regards to grading, I have not been observant of my physical condition at all. Basically I have allowed myself to wither in the face of the gathering storm of work that is the end of the semester.
It got so bad at one point that when the website crashed I just said, meh, and let it be that way until I could stand it no more. Three posts worth of buildup and finally we are back. I believe there is a message in all of it. I think this indicates that I’ve hit a wall of sorts. See, I have been trying to decide how to move forward on a number of fronts. The universe, kind as it is, continues to offer me moments of realization that I am basically hanging on. 5000 emails in the backlog, more time watching TV than reading and, well, thinking, and a list of positives about writing that come down to this: It doesn’t always suck.
I need more. I need passion rejuvenated. I need to strike out and not be stagnant with the words and emotions and fire out and do something more with my mind. This life on the corner of a beat up couch is not for me.