I am proving myself to be incapable of inactivity. I am a busy-minded person and I am finding it exhausting. I spend a good deal of my life behind a counter, wearing an apron, making milk based beverages for the masses. I am beginning to think that I hate this job. I am very proud of my friends who have gotten out and are moving on with their lives. I feel hypocritical for my continual employment. I suppose this is why people go to college in the first place.
None of my friends who went to school had time to read books for fun.
Can't have that.
All this to say that I am busy and creative expression of any kind (even the basest) seems excessive. I would like to sit in silence more and interact less. It is a surreal kind of life when all the things that were once enjoyable become tiresome and the people that you love become burdensome. All because I don't seem to be able to function at the same level as the normal individual. Perhaps if I stopped reading several books at a time, and journaling, and planning out a short film, and working two jobs (one of which requires keeping the schedules of two very prodigious young people straight as they participate in basketball and tennis and swimming and piano), and not working a third job (which weighs heavily on ones mind), and planning a baby shower, and booking the beehive collective, and serving on the church missions committee, and participating in our Tuesday night discussion group, and attempting to live communally with as many as eight other people, I would feel better.
Then again, probably not. This is my head, in all its fullness and madness, and I think it would always be overwhelmed with efforts. I am proud of these particular ones. I am proud of this over crowdedness.
It felt nice to type all that out, a sort of mental organizational tool. I apologize that you had to participate. I sometimes abuse the internet, using it for my own aims.
Anyway, it's time for work.