Guilt and breath and dreams

photo by Tim Brown

Heading from one long week into another, and somehow hoping that I’ll get the chance to write more than I did last week.  I have been in this deep period of reading–new poetry that I’ve come across by accident, non-fiction, novels (I feel like it’s been years since I read this many novels), but it’s time to put some words on the page.  Every time I start to write one thing, I feel like I ought to be writing another and then I get all frozen up and go back to looking at Jezebel.

It’s absolute bullshit, and it’s a microcosm of how the rest of my life feels.  I don’t know whether it’s my personality or human nature, or something feminine and maternal, but guilt is as much a part of my life as breath and dreams.  I always feel like I should be doing something else somewhere else for someone else.  That time’s a-wasting, that I am not fulfilling some potential I should be.  And as a result I probably do half of what I could be doing.

But you know what?  I’m putting it out on the Internets so that hopefully beat myself up Seema comes back and reads it: I do a whole hell of a lot, and I don’t do a bullshit job of any of it.