Small Pieces.

Good morning Denver. This morning I was out of the house early to greet the sun as it joined the living - or at least the showered, scrubbed, walking dead. This morning was an attempt to accomplish multiple things. One, soak up the last bits of summer weather before it snows on Saturday. Two, to plow through my weight in literature about world history in the years between the world wars. And three, to not break down. 

I am hitting a wall. It happens every semester, but this semester - this semester... There is not enough time. I'm always behind. My writing is a cold, gloppy oatmeal. Ugly, unappetizing, and stale. I don't feel like myself, but I can't get past it. Stuck in a terrible fog of unoriginal thought. It seems I have lost my voice - that it is just out of reach. 

There has been no time to grieve. No space. Sometimes I'm barely holding myself together. This part of my life, and the rest of my life intersect, and at that intersection there seems to be one ugly accident with confused people wondering around with bits of dirt in their hair. The claustrophobia of emotions, expectations, sickness, overwhelming feeling of a never ending, far too large commitment... overpowers me. I need out of the city for a moment. I need an expanse. Perhaps a road trip, and a stop in the middle of the Utah desert. 

I am growing tired of the continual battle with education. I do not enjoy this. I am tired. I am tired of the continual striving toward being someone I am not. The constant battle - if I would just allow myself a bit of room... The real crux of it all - I am unfortunately good at what I do not enjoy. More simply out of perfectionism and fear than talent. It is hard and difficult to change.

"Too Late To Quit (Too Soon To Go Home)" by The Wallflowers popped up on my iTunes today - I often believe that God has a twisted, twisted sense of humor. Either that or it was a gentle reminder that I am sickeningly normal, and that I need to move on, and move out of myself, and into others.