…my imagination hadn’t turned on me yet.
I can’t really seem to get anything done. Whenever I sit down to concentrate and actually work on things I need to work on. My mind either seems to wander on to things that stress me out. The e-mails I was supposed to write weeks ago to have my modules verify never got sent, I’ve kept postponing it. I meant to do it last weekend, I meant to do it this weekend. It just didn’t get done, and it is not like it’s like I have to write a big essay, just a short paragraph outlining why I had to change modules. It’s not rocket science.
I could argue that I’ve had a lot to think about. A lot has been going on, I’ve had my trouble to deal with. But truth is most of it is over now, and whatever is remaining should not really matter, because I don’t really care. Or maybe I do care,, but I try to fool myself into believing I don’t because it is not a matter that will actually matter in the long run.
As for other things there have been a lot of minor setbacks for me. I’ve started doubting that I will ever make it as a writer. Which kind of makes my major a waste and leave me with a heavy student loan (regardless if I decide to drop out or not. The way the american’s run their creative writing courses has been hard for me to get accustomed to. How they want their students to write, what they want their students to write. I did a beginning poetry class and it did not go well, even though I did really well in poetry last year. The fiction class I took did not at all go as well as I hoped and it seemed like whatever I wrote fell flat. In the second semester I finally got on to the “this is how you we want you to write wagon.” So I locked up my voice and my imagination, to write what they wanted to see. At least I have proved to myself that if I really want to, I can sell my soul for a story. Somewhere in the midst of it all I figure I lost my passion and the joy I feel for writing. Truth is I have hardly written anything unless it’s for an assignment, and the thought of writing just turn me straight off.
I remember a few years ago I would strictly write 5000 words a day, now I’m lucky if I bother to write a single sentence. It just feel like something was ripped away and I feel like I’m just here without a plan now. What am I supposed to do now. How am I supposed to be able to graduate at all, if I can hardly stomach to write a sentence. Next year is my last year, I am facing a really big writing assignment, and I can not see me getting it done in time.
Lately I have just been filled with this unrest. When I sit down and not really do anything my heart just starts racing as if I’m having a full on panic attack (I’ve had some of those so I know what I’m talking about), and I just feel like I am wasting my life away. Frankly I know I’m not “that old” and I have my whole life in front of me, but in those moments I just feel like my numbers are up and I just wasted it all.
Sometimes I think maybe I should take a year off from uni. A year off to just find myself again, find my voice and my soul (if you believe in that sort of thing). Just spend sometime rediscovering my passion for writing, and figure out what I really want to write. But I’m also afraid if I take a year off I will just fall off the grid again, and just end up drowning in my own mind. And I’m afraid if I take a break now there will be no going back, I will just settle for nothing and end up regretting it when I’m 40, alone and own more cats than I can count because right now that is the only future I see.
Maybe it is just a half-way-midlife-crisis-phrase I’m going through. Maybe I over-think everything and spend too much time thinking of what I could have done different to have come further in my life by now. What if I had not spent so much doing nothing, I would have a degree by now. What if I had taken an apprenticeship instead of going to uni, I would have been done with education by now. But then again I know if I did things differently I would never ended up where I am right now, and right now is very good if I could just spend more time enjoying the presence and not worrying about the future.
It’s just that a lot of small things rest on my shoulders right now. I have to send that e-mail. I have not even started thinking about accommodation for next semester when I’m back in London. Where am I supposed to live when I get back there? Students starts searching and applying for housing in January, it’s April and I haven’t even started. I think maybe I part of me is reluctant to start searching because I don’t really want to go back and another part really want to request to take a year off, a third part kind of wishes that now could just last forever.
I guess I will find a way to get everything sorted, eventually. Things tend to work out, at least up until now my “last-moment-thing” has seemed to work out. Hopefully I’m not out of luck just yet.