I miss thinking. I miss a lifestyle with pockets of time for thinking folded in; bus rides, and walks home. I don't like being alone with myself anymore. I don't write anymore. As I write this all feels like.. pastiche? convoluted. contrived. Maybe its the forum. Feigning talking to myself. I know that the answer to my problems, to my general malaise, is to put my head down and just live the best I can. The questions that bother me aren't ones that can be answered, even if I really wanted them to be. But in fine female fashion I want to rant and rave and think out loud for an hour.

My periphery has been so cluttered these past few months with work or school that I've not been able to breath the whole panorama; past, present, future, emotions, experience, divinity, which alow me to turn in on myself and think for any extended time period. I'm kind of drowning in it all right now.Worries and decisions about the future. Impossible decisions. But soon I'll shake it all off and keep on living.

I shifted on some internal level when I got my grades back for the semester. All A's across the board, if its good manners to announce that. For some reason, its almost been like succeeding at this nearly insurmountable semester has sucked all the excitement out of the next year and a half. I've proved to myself I can do it, and I wonder now if thats the only reason I am here. I was sobered this week by the realization that Academia (capitalized because it is a nation, with a culture and language, unto itself) is not where I want to be in ten years. What do I do with that information then? Do I even finish this degree? What is it that I really want to do? This is where lightning strikes and non-doom-predicting-handwriting-on-a-wall would come in handy.

I owe many people apologies. I have 8 month old e-mails sitting in my mail box that I need to reply to.. I keep telling myself I will one day. I know that my silence implies that those people weren't important to me or that I didn't care. I did care.

P.S. thanks Janet for nudging me to write something.