November 20, 2011

Hello peoples,

I am in the midst of an existential... not crisis, no, but, maybe hullabaloo?  Yes.  I think that's appropriate to the ridiculousness of the situation.  I am in the midst of an existential hullabaloo.

Details, details, boring boring details.  I'm not even sure what the details of said hullabaloo ARE.  I am lacking the concrete-itude of thought that would allow me to put word and concept to my hullabalooing.

Suffice it to say that I feel all my time is full, but I am doing nothing. 

I scurry, scurry, scurry, to sit around and wait.

All my creative impulses have fled me, like rats from a hullabalooing ship.

I have doubts about my skill and talents as they relate to parenting.  I have doubts about my skill and talents as they relate to pretty much EVERYTHING, but the parenting one is the one that is getting me down.  

I have guilt concerning my comfortable status in the world.  I realize that my identity as an activist is valid only if such things can be hereditary, and I'm a little mortified by that.  Maybe a lot mortified.

I squirm with the knowledge that my problems are, as my father would call them, "first world problems".  And they still bother me.  So I squirm about that, too.

I wish to look all these thoughts in their beady little eyes and DEAL with them.  I love to DEAL with things.  It is one of the great satisfactions in my life when I can DEAL with something.  But I find, as I try to grasp one of the slippery little buggers and expose it to examination, that they are too tricksy for me.  

I loathe tricksy thoughts.