(no subject)
Vacation's almost over, and all I'll say about it for right now is that I suddenly feel like there're enough thoughts back in my head to write a freakin' book.
It's amazing what the least relaxing vacation ever can do for your creativity.....now if only I could stop self-censoring long enough to actually, you know, say something.
Everytime I feel like I'm on the verge of Something, something else comes along.
Why is that?
How does that happen?
There are moments where there's this clarity, and suddenly I can see a whole other life for myself. I just can't seem to see the path to get there.
There is one thing I now know: I may love my job, but I feel trapped in it. Which means....well, it means a lot of things, and I have a number of different options as to how to resolve the caged animal feeling that overcomes me every time I think about work. (Which is almost all the time, lately. Including every day for the last six.)
I've rambled on long enough, for someone who was taking an internet break along with a work break these last few days. Hope all is well with you, flist. PleasepleasePLEASE catch me up on significant events (I've little faith in the likelihood of me getting in the wayback machine to catch myself up in the next week or so, given what's on the docket). In return, I'll be sure to catch you up on my trip before things slip like loose threads from my mind.
mwahs!
~a
(PS. Seriously, dude: what the fuck happened to my typing skills? I've made about a gajillion mistakes this entry, and I fucking hate that.)
It's amazing what the least relaxing vacation ever can do for your creativity.....now if only I could stop self-censoring long enough to actually, you know, say something.
Everytime I feel like I'm on the verge of Something, something else comes along.
Why is that?
How does that happen?
There are moments where there's this clarity, and suddenly I can see a whole other life for myself. I just can't seem to see the path to get there.
There is one thing I now know: I may love my job, but I feel trapped in it. Which means....well, it means a lot of things, and I have a number of different options as to how to resolve the caged animal feeling that overcomes me every time I think about work. (Which is almost all the time, lately. Including every day for the last six.)
I've rambled on long enough, for someone who was taking an internet break along with a work break these last few days. Hope all is well with you, flist. PleasepleasePLEASE catch me up on significant events (I've little faith in the likelihood of me getting in the wayback machine to catch myself up in the next week or so, given what's on the docket). In return, I'll be sure to catch you up on my trip before things slip like loose threads from my mind.
mwahs!
~a
(PS. Seriously, dude: what the fuck happened to my typing skills? I've made about a gajillion mistakes this entry, and I fucking hate that.)