Originally uploaded by loosegreentea.
I have to finish the Big Bad Baby Blanket by Saturday. And grade papers. And do this thing they call “work”. And deal with apartment management b.s.
I realized today, as I wrote an old professor for guidance into the big bad world of PhDs, that I’m in a crisis of faith. No, not as in “is there a God” or anything actually worth having a crisis of faith about. I’m having a massive crisis of identity: I’m having a crisis of faith in myself. Do I teach? Do I find a “real” job (ick)? Do I go get my PhD? Is it even worth continuing to write when I’m too afraid to even submit my work?
Even knitting is hard these days. My right shoulder and wrist have gone berserk and I’m in excruciating pain.
I wish I could hibernate in the winter. It would all be so much easier.
