Just sort of disconnected

Not in the literal sense (yet), but in a metaphysical, vaguely sort of philosophical manner of speaking. So many little things have intruded upon the scope of my life that I find myself adrift without a schedule, without priorities, attending to tasks as they pop up or as they flag me down with little urgent signs that threaten to bludgeon me if I don’t take care of them.

We’re moving into a new house across on Friday, so the past few weeks have been a whirlwind of the cardboard box variety. The primary inhabitants of our house are now cardboard cubes that contain stuff from the soon-to-be former occupants. So tomorrow we finish everything up and then Friday the chaos continues. Hopefully we should be installed and connected to the Internet the same day, so I will only be absent for the time it takes to move boxes, unpack, and then collapse in the heap of empty cardboard and sleep for a few days.

Unfortunately, university has not provided the satisfaction of which I dreamed four months ago. Most of it is…easy. There are some hard parts, of course, and it is bound to get harder. Second year will be better because there’ll be less people who are taking math because they need it for another discipline—smaller classes with more interested people. But for now, at least, it’s just another way to pass time. The schedule is good in that respect. It just didn’t fill the void that opened up after I finished high school.

So now I’ve got various projects and responsibilities and commitments all on the go in order to fill that void. I need to stop making commitments, but—as I‘m sure you’ve realized—it’s hard. And I don’t know what to work on first, so I jump about, which is never as efficient. I‘ve been working on two new websites, one for a friend and the other as a personal project with two other friends, but I’ve become mired in code for the latter with no escape in sight. I need to pull back, re-evaluate, and then finish it as quickly as possible—but as cleanly as possible. Bah. So everything is half-done and nothing is fully done, and I hate leaving my stuff in a state of undoneness (muwahahah)—it just feels so messy. I just haven’t had the time (or, in some cases, the inclination) to actually finish some of them.

And I need to write more. But in order for that to happen, I need to reignite a spark of inspiration within so that when I force myself to write it doesn’t come out stilted. The story is a microcosm in my brain—everything is there, I can feel it. I know it. But how do I express it accurately in the English language? It doesn’t come out right, not yet. I’m working on it—please stand by.

Bah.

I need a vacation.