Everything I want to write about on a Monday seems too personal to write about. The need for self-preservation does rear its ugly head when one is alone and left to one's own thoughts. It doesn't really matter how secure, settled, and content one feels at other times. That might even make it worse.
The fact remains that I'm transient, that my life is painfully and wonderfully unstructured and free. I have no idea what I want to do with myself. I love teaching *under certain circumstances* and I love writing *about some things* and I love traveling *in a particular way.* What the sweet hell will I be like when I'm older and even more set in my ways? Thank God I did travel and push myself out of my boundaries, because otherwise I'd be a hermit for sure.
So I have these ideas. These grand goddamned plans. But no real steps are taken towards them, because that would be terrifying.
(It's not that I don't think my life is real life. It totally is, and thus far I wouldn't change the choices I've made. It's just that there is... more? something else? The word is hard to find. Whatever it is, I'm starting to want that.)
And the hilarious thing is how well I seem to trick everyone. Everybody seems to think I'm this capable, rational adult. People think I'm a good teacher. Friends and colleagues trust me to organize things and come to me for help. Smart people (much smarter than me, for sure) take my advice! (The really funny thing is I was just telling someone to not worry, that we all feel like frauds. And here I go. I can't even have original crises.)
I really should not be left alone. I literally have not spoken a word out loud today. 8 hours to myself and I freak out.
This part is not a freak out: I think I want to go home. Home, as in the USA. Not right now, and I don't know for how long. I'm not sure where or what I would do there, though I do have ideas. There. I've written it down, so now it's time to make plans instead of just thinking thoughts.
Today I made 72 4-cm diameter cardboard circles. I seriously underestimated the amount of time that would take, though it probably would have taken less had I not stopped every few circles to do absolutely nothing on the internet.
The fact remains that I'm transient, that my life is painfully and wonderfully unstructured and free. I have no idea what I want to do with myself. I love teaching *under certain circumstances* and I love writing *about some things* and I love traveling *in a particular way.* What the sweet hell will I be like when I'm older and even more set in my ways? Thank God I did travel and push myself out of my boundaries, because otherwise I'd be a hermit for sure.
So I have these ideas. These grand goddamned plans. But no real steps are taken towards them, because that would be terrifying.
(It's not that I don't think my life is real life. It totally is, and thus far I wouldn't change the choices I've made. It's just that there is... more? something else? The word is hard to find. Whatever it is, I'm starting to want that.)
And the hilarious thing is how well I seem to trick everyone. Everybody seems to think I'm this capable, rational adult. People think I'm a good teacher. Friends and colleagues trust me to organize things and come to me for help. Smart people (much smarter than me, for sure) take my advice! (The really funny thing is I was just telling someone to not worry, that we all feel like frauds. And here I go. I can't even have original crises.)
I really should not be left alone. I literally have not spoken a word out loud today. 8 hours to myself and I freak out.
This part is not a freak out: I think I want to go home. Home, as in the USA. Not right now, and I don't know for how long. I'm not sure where or what I would do there, though I do have ideas. There. I've written it down, so now it's time to make plans instead of just thinking thoughts.
Today I made 72 4-cm diameter cardboard circles. I seriously underestimated the amount of time that would take, though it probably would have taken less had I not stopped every few circles to do absolutely nothing on the internet.
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