In Search of Normality

Lately I haven’t had much to say. Most of what comes to mind is hardly worth committing even to the virtual page, and the thoughts that are actually worth sharing are probably better left unsaid for the moment. You could link this mental drought to a handful of things. Sometimes I wonder if I’m simply in a rut. Has the proverbial writer’s block graced me with its gift of a creative scapegoat? Possibly. Then again, maybe I have nothing to say because all of the passion in my life has been reduced to a dull tingling, much like the sensations felt in an under-circulated limb. And sometimes, I even entertain the idea that I’ve lost my love for writing itself. I’ve seen it happen to one too many writers that I respect, which is why I don’t believe I’m immune to that kind of loss.

Thankfully, that final possibility has never been very convincing. Droughts like these actually seem to afflict me at the end of each academic quarter. Frankly, I’m sick of it all. Why are my thoughts stuck in a rut in the first place? It’s because my mind has been strained and occupied with other things like dull homework assignments, constant preparation for biweekly exams, and the anxieties that come with trying to drag my grades back up to a respectable level come graduation time. Who has time for passion when your emotional energy is better spent trying to pass a course that you so desperately need? I’ve never been good at multitasking, so I’ve had to learn many painful lessons in prioritization.

I’m almost done with school, granted that I can pass my second intermediate accounting course. I’m not a very good accountant, but I’ve noticed that I’m beginning to think like one—which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But I wish I had more opportunity to let my mind roam freely, independent of debits and credits, profits and losses, and assets and liabilities. All I really want is a little sense of normality. I’m getting tired of being constantly reminded that I am a monumental fuck-up when it comes to playing with numbers.

Ironically, I have plenty to say when I’m writing about writer’s block. Another day, when this is all over, I hope to be laughing about these days with each and every one of you while sipping on a Coke. Until then, you crazy kids.