Recovery

The thing about metaphors is that you become stuck in them.  After writing yesterday's post I took a shower, wherein I stood underneath the streams of hot water and realized how fortunate you had to be to be purely 'Spirit', 'Earth', 'Wind', 'Water' or 'Fire'.  It's like being the master of that element, and nobody's special enough to be just purely one thing.  Which means I'm not only Spirit, I'm other stuff, too.

And please, don't ever let me talk about spirit like that again.  I read back over what I wrote and realize that it's just a swamp of negativity, a dump of acid.  I believe it, but I also choose to live a hopeful life.  What I must learn is not what was written yesterday, but to incorporate who I am with the realities of life.  That is, to talk about the inner self in more physical terms, with verbs rather than adjectives.

The greatest thing about my job is that I can spend entire afternoons reading blogs while being paid $14 an hour.  During the main parts of summer the job was difficult, with plenty of running around, tables to lift and rooms to set up, catering orders to stalk and trash cans to find.  I've had more than one frustrated bouts as I went over my social limit, and spent many evenings after work curled up in a dejected slump which refuses to budge or be hopeful.  But now that most conferences have left Stanford and early arrivals are replenishing the student body, I can guiltily sneak away some quiet, paid moments working on Felishorns and reading voraciously, recalling the carnal hunger for words which SLE had, for a moment, extinguished.  Over-indulgence is a crippling sickness, but recoverable.

My blog feed consists mostly of ecological and zoological journals, travel blogs, blogs on good food and good living, design and weddings, and lately blogs on how to bake bread.  I will be keeping an eye on Natural Starter Bread, judging when I can read it, and starting a starter once I've moved into my new dorm room, which will be my residence for the school year.

But I don't let myself get too enthralled with blogs, yet, or I will over-indulge and ignore Felishorn work and my studies when school starts again.  I took the time to write this post so as to divert my attention from it's track, because 5pm is fast approaching when I can go home and work on Felishorns.  Hopefully, tonight will be more productive than last night.  I still can't get rid of the last traces of artistic frustration, still can't grip my muse, but I'm going to plow through anyway and work.

(Oh woe is the bread blog in French!)