I should be studying for my exams.
I should be writing for my workshop group.
I should be doing what I know I need to be doing.
Instead I am fretting over all of it and making no kind of headway on actually getting it done.
Every time I go to the bathroom, Ordinary Genius looks at me from the tub-rim. I leaf through it and put it down.
When I come into the bed room, stacks of Norton anthologies stare me down from their place on the bookshelf. I spend less time with them than I should. They don’t let me forget.
I go for walks. I peel paint. I pull up carpet. I wish I had time to go through everything once and for all.
I wish I could donate my life to the Goodwill. Maybe some one else could figure out how to use it more effectively. They would recycle it. They would be glad to have all this stuff, all this pressure, all these worldly things.
I just want a Volkswagon Van or a big old truck with a cap, Bec, my dogs, my bathing suit, some overflowing dumpsters with lots of good food, and the beach. That is all I tell myself I need.
Really, I am pretty happy right now. I just hit these little bumps in the road where I think I need to be doing something different than what I am doing. Talking with Sarah this morning helped me keep my career choice in perspective, because I am doing what I love: reading and writing. And, I am doing it with other people who also love it, and I am teaching it. Hopefully, I even influence some of my students to love it, too. What could be more fulfilling than that? I just need to figure out how to escape to the beach once a year to restore my soul…