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Over and done.

I just don't know where anything is heading anymore. So, I'm still frustrated with my job, halfassedly looking for a new one. I've been trying moderately unsuccessfully to rekindle my writing. Suddenly I've been considering finishing school. I need to figure out what's important to me.

For some reason, that question's been leading me to my writing. My non-existent writing. I guess because it's expressive, it's enduring, it's relevant. Selling perfume? Not gonna be remembered someday for all the fantastic perfume I sold. It's not that I need to be remembered or adored, just that what I do with the rest of my life, however long that may be, actually matter to me and maybe someone else. Right now I'm about as far from that as I think I can get.

The job, as I've said, pisses me off a lot. I'm not terrible at it, but I'm also not good at it. And it consumes most of my time and energy and leaves me not only exhausted but wanting more from life. And angry. Really angry, a lot.

The kind of work I'd like instead seems to prefer some kind of degree. At the least something more to show for 5 years of higher education than I currently do. It just doesn't look good, I imagine, to go to two different schools over so long a time and not have any kind of degree. Even so. Even so....

I don't know what I want from life anymore. If I'm gonna write, I either need to figure out a system by which I actually allow myself to write. Some manner of discipline mixed with some kind of plan. Neither of which I'm very good at. I also need to have the time and energy, or so I imagine, to focus on writing projects, neither of which I seem to have much.

I'm dithering on again; I'll just quit while I'm ahead. Before I start getting actually angstsome. I will say, however, that I'm sure something needs to change. Just not totally sure what that is yet or how. But I definitely can't keep on like this. At least I hope not.

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Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Or just tell me what you think.

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