I feel as though I have nothing deep and meaningful to write. You may have noticed I failed to post yesterday. I'm frustrated with my voyage into NaBloPoMo.
I just don't have enough time to think.
I've always heard that college students who are serious about their homework don't have enough time to do that homework, sleep, and carry on a social life. I've always been a bit of a loner, so my social life is continuing at about the same rate. I'm not getting as much sleep, but that's not due to lack of time. I'm feeling the loss very much in terms of space to think. Intellectualism has lost a faithful follower. I spend a lot of time being introspective, or pondering mysteries that have no bearing on my life. (I thought that when I started this blog I could write about some of it, but not much has come up.) I feel so stuffed in by the necessity of making deadlines and keeping to schedules and "prioritizing" all the things I have to do...there is no time for all of the impractical, or less tangibly practical, thinking that needs to be done. My mind feels so tied up in itself that I have no creative flow anymore. It's been weeks since I've written a halfway decent poem and longer since I've done any fiction writing longer than a sentence or two. Every time I sit down my mind goes, "But, Kiersten, YOUR BRAIN DOESN"T WORK, remember? You broke it trying to keep up with your schoolwork." And maybe I have. It surely feels like I at least pulled some gooey grey cerebral muscle up there. I never much liked mentally cooperating with practicality, and now I feel interminably mired in practicality.
I feel your pain there. The only reason I've been able to write is because I have to for school. It'll be worth it all in the end... I hope.
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