"Sometimes it happens... I get into this deep blue funk, the work moves slowly if it moves at all. I feel sorry for myself, and I resent doing so, it spirals to feeling guilty that I feel sorry, and that nothing will ever be the way I dreamt it. All seems wrong, and all seems right at the same time. I withdraw from the world, I want nothing, I want nobody, I do not want to talk, and I do not want to see anybody.
This summer, when someone on learning my profession, tells me that he had lived with a woman of the same profession for six years, I looked at him in awe. My very private thinking in facing such revelation was "no man has ever endured me for so long." who is this man, I asked myself.
This is not how it began, no; it could not begin like that. It began long before that. The first time that I saw him, I had other private thoughts, more along the lines of what an incommensurable macho this man must be, and asked myself how much I could learn from him. Then, a few years went by, and I forgot him. I forgot him until this summer, and I was there where I knew he would be. The rational, the conscientious had forgotten, the other me had not.
Now he is here, and I am confronting myself in all my own pitiful glory and innocence. He is here, and I tell myself that he is more of a challenge than what I can handle. He did not invite himself, he did not invite me, and he is here. I want to deny it, and reality cannot be denied.
Gratitude belongs here."
NOTE: although "schemata" has its own blog, i have not yet put much in it. sometimes, not always, there is reason to my madness.
