Perhaps it's simply my crazy schedule this semester. Or my crazy life. Or my kids' crazy lives. I can't figure out the exact cause for these extended vacations from blogging. Some nights, it's exhaustion. After working and teaching and Poet Laureating, I find that I have just enough energy to change into my pajamas and collapse on the couch. Other nights, it's a pile of papers that needs attention or lesson plans or American Horror Story.
I don't mind being busy. In fact I don't know what I would do with myself if I wasn't. Even when I'm supposed to be relaxing or vacationing or sleeping, I find it difficult to shut my mind down. I lie awake in bed for a good half hour every night before my brain realizes it's time to power down. The work I really enjoy usually happens on weekends, when I have a few minutes to sit down with a book or my journal and pen.
Tomorrow, I'm giving a poetry reading at my local library with a couple of my musician friends. I spent a couple hours this afternoon with my friends, pairing poems and songs. It was wonderful. Something that I would do all day, every day, if I could. Yes, I work in a medical office. Teach college English courses. Play the pipe organ at church. That's what pays the bills. Well, almost pays the bills. But poetry and writing and music. These things feed something deeper in me.
I am thankful that I can steal a few hours a week to do things that I really love, even if I'm exhausted the rest of the week. It's what makes everything else I do bearable.
Now, forgive Saint Marty for this shortened post. There are books to read. Poems to write. An American in Paris on Public TV.
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