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artyartieIt's amazing - and frightening - how very quickly life can just overwhelm me.
I'm working on my application to the UofM right now not because I want to because I'm forcing myself to. Because if I wasn't doing this I'd be curled up in a ball besides one of the kitties feeling very much as I've felt the last few weeks. Months, maybe. I should have known something was wrong when I stopped reading, for the most part. Before I left for Germany in 2003, I hadn't been able to read for pleasure for months. Working nearly 55-60 hours a week at jobs I was coming to hate - including my bookstore job - and being deeply unhappy with my life stripped away one of my greatest joys. I first realized the extent of the 'damage' when I picked up 'Spies,' a book I would devour months later, and couldn't make it past the first paragraph. I just couldn't focus on the words and quite frankly, I didn't want to. A month or so after moving in with Mel I found myself coming home with stacks of books from the library and reading almost every night before bed.
Now, I haven't picked up a book in a week - and that was the last book I had read in a month. I have little compulsion to read and less to write - hence why I've dropped off![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
muse_muggers2 and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tsukimineshrine. There are stories in my head but it's gotten pretty dark in there - and there are things I do need to work on more, like my application and GRE prep. Because right now those are the keys to getting myself ou of this pit in which I seem to have fallen. And there are all the wonderful stories which have been written by others, namely cygna_hime and butterflydrming, which I want to read but just can't.
Hopefully come February, when there's a letter of acceptance in my Inbox, I'll be a happier person in general. There are moments of happiness, intense but fleeting, and those will, somehow, see me through. But I have to get in - if not Minnesota somewhere else, though my heart is really set on the Twin Cities now - because the alternative, of living this life that I have, day after day after endless day, is just unfathomable.
So if I'm a little scarce, I apologize, but I'll probably be rather quiet these next few months. Except for nights like these, of course, when I'm screaming into the void because it's the only place I won't be heard.
I'm working on my application to the UofM right now not because I want to because I'm forcing myself to. Because if I wasn't doing this I'd be curled up in a ball besides one of the kitties feeling very much as I've felt the last few weeks. Months, maybe. I should have known something was wrong when I stopped reading, for the most part. Before I left for Germany in 2003, I hadn't been able to read for pleasure for months. Working nearly 55-60 hours a week at jobs I was coming to hate - including my bookstore job - and being deeply unhappy with my life stripped away one of my greatest joys. I first realized the extent of the 'damage' when I picked up 'Spies,' a book I would devour months later, and couldn't make it past the first paragraph. I just couldn't focus on the words and quite frankly, I didn't want to. A month or so after moving in with Mel I found myself coming home with stacks of books from the library and reading almost every night before bed.
Now, I haven't picked up a book in a week - and that was the last book I had read in a month. I have little compulsion to read and less to write - hence why I've dropped off
muse_muggers2 and tsukimineshrine. There are stories in my head but it's gotten pretty dark in there - and there are things I do need to work on more, like my application and GRE prep. Because right now those are the keys to getting myself ou of this pit in which I seem to have fallen. And there are all the wonderful stories which have been written by others, namely cygna_hime and butterflydrming, which I want to read but just can't.Hopefully come February, when there's a letter of acceptance in my Inbox, I'll be a happier person in general. There are moments of happiness, intense but fleeting, and those will, somehow, see me through. But I have to get in - if not Minnesota somewhere else, though my heart is really set on the Twin Cities now - because the alternative, of living this life that I have, day after day after endless day, is just unfathomable.
So if I'm a little scarce, I apologize, but I'll probably be rather quiet these next few months. Except for nights like these, of course, when I'm screaming into the void because it's the only place I won't be heard.
