I've been writing like crazy -- at least, in my head, I have. I realized that I've been blocking out any conscious thought. Seriously. Most of the time, my head is as empty as...as what?
I know why. Guilt. Guilt that I'm wasting time, though it surely doesn't feel like it when I do. It feels like relief, as physical sensations have been jockeying for first position in my conscious thought processes. And I don't want to think about them. Today, for the first time in days, I can think and they don't nudge out all thought of beauty, of children, even of husband. I feel guilt when he asks me, "What are you thinking about?" and I respond, "Oh, me again."
Another thing...we're leaving for dinner soon to meet with a couple of friends. The one friend is my professor/advisor/mentor, and he's going to ask that question. You know -- the one that goes, "So, what are you writing?"
And I have to tell the truth. Maybe I'll give him my blog address?
Till later....
I know why. Guilt. Guilt that I'm wasting time, though it surely doesn't feel like it when I do. It feels like relief, as physical sensations have been jockeying for first position in my conscious thought processes. And I don't want to think about them. Today, for the first time in days, I can think and they don't nudge out all thought of beauty, of children, even of husband. I feel guilt when he asks me, "What are you thinking about?" and I respond, "Oh, me again."
Another thing...we're leaving for dinner soon to meet with a couple of friends. The one friend is my professor/advisor/mentor, and he's going to ask that question. You know -- the one that goes, "So, what are you writing?"
And I have to tell the truth. Maybe I'll give him my blog address?
Till later....
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