Hypersomnia is real. I've just been lying down, napping intermittently, procrastinating (now I just told my assistant editor that I'm not writing those 8 blogs due in 10 days), and getting lost in contemplation. I'm not sure if this is just a much needed rest or if I'm in an official slump.
Adulting is not about following a pre-conceived timeline of milestones. It’s about living a fully-aware, responsible life in the context of social and personal responsibility.
I SAID FAREWELL TO MY PARENTS at a tender age of 15. I was studying for college and living in a dorm that was eight hours’ worth of bus travel from home. I had a roommate (high school best friend) who left in second semester.
Living alone for the first time, I learned to take care of many things – staying sane, buying groceries, doing laundry, cooking, budgeting, and making tight ends meet.
Mission And Vision As A Writer: On Rekindling My Relationship With My Muse
I remember from my pre-teens that I wrote about “becoming a writer” as an ambition. When a teacher asked us to write a formal composition on the subject, I wrote away my dreams to write pieces that would be displayed as New York Times bestsellers and touch people's lives. I wrote a lot at the time – from personal journals, short stories in my notebooks, to articles for our school paper.
my mind is in a bad place right now. i feel disoriented regarding what i want, what i'm actually doing, and what i need to do. this feeling has been going on for more than a week now, and it doesn't help that the surf is off-season and i don't have a diversion/escape/release except for marijuana.
a few great things happened this weekend – i got more than enough sleep, i wrote new copy for a new website of mine, i visited my cousin, i had lovely conversations with my sister. i watched a ton of youtube.
anxiety though still kicks me on the side and tells me i'm fat, not good enough, not writing enough. it just made me stare blankly while smoking cigarettes earlier.
I am officially wearing the hat of a twenty-somethings yuppie who drags herself to office, a hellish place where gold digging activities are held in exchange of youthful soul. Proof? I just don't care anymore – apathy has taken hold of my soul.
I am frustrated at myself. My body is giving away. I am bloated from too much sugar and I haven't done any physical exercise in more than a week. I haven't written anything significant (not counting the extra freelance work) and I don't feel productive enough.
i feel so unhappy i'm just at a loss for words. i visited my parents' house for the weekend, and though i was thankful i didn't have to see my dad for the majority of it, i threw a fit at my brother who was just really upsetting. we shouted back and forth and argued about his cat.
Part of being a writer is discovering new things due to research. It can be as mundane as sleeping masks and bizarre as healing crystals. This time, I'm working on an academic essay and looking up Tracks by Robyn Davidson.