I will make this quick.
I had planned to post during the holidays, but then the holidays were gone and both of my schools started again.
At one school, I work as a teacher assistant. In the afternoon, I work as a graduate assistant and then go to classes Monday, Wednesday and Thursday night.
Every day it seems like more.
Some days I wonder if I can manage it again. It is not the work load. Okay, I’m lying. The work load does get to me, but there is more guilt and a sense of abandonment I feel in leaving my son and a new laptop void of new writing.
But I know my mental health requires the words. I know my mind and heart ache when I don’t type new words or recraft old sentences.
They are like old friends, you see. Those old sentences do not bother me. They didn’t work the first time, but they can be made into something better. Some people are nervous about editing. That comes from outside pressure, but if we strip away the yapping online and around us, there is just us and a screen or a piece of paper.
I hear the words when I walk by rivers or when undergraduate girls talk about a loner on Facebook who only posts pictures with his family. Yes, I am one of those people—one of those odd ball people who keeps the words on the screen until it’s time for them to become something more.
A lot of times I don’t want certain pieces to be anything more than a place on which I write for my peace of mind.