You know, I haven't been *thinking* much lately. I wake up, race to get to work, work, get home, make dinner (or go to a meeting, or work on the dance coalition) and then collapse in bed. repeat. repeat. repeat.

i kind of feel like my brain is porridge. it's porridge that hurts, though - i feel like it's aching to be actually used, not just carried around all day until dream-time (and as an aside, i haven't been dreaming much lately, which is a first for me EVER). ?????? what's going on?

i miss reading. i miss that compulsion i used to have to write (although that feeling was pretty dead by my third year of university). i miss that liveliness i used to have in the act of creating something, whether that be a dance, a poem, a story, or just plain setting my thoughts down in well-chosen words.

i guess this is just a huge transition period. i hope i get back to a place where creation exists within me and is expressed outside myself; because that act of creation feeds my soul and makes my brain alive.

Labels: transitions