It is because I envy that I hate. I could only hope I were as courageous.
I miss painting. And my books. And my movies.
I am buried in readings, and it appears as if I will never catch up.
I wonder if I am learning critical thinking, or if that is even something that can be learned in school.
I have to try not to whine anymore, for what will that do but cause people around me discomfort?
Apparently, I am wrong in thinking that acquiring knowledge is the only worthy pursuit in life. It is something that I love doing and tremendously, but given the finite amount of time I have at my disposal, I am uncertain if it is the proper pursuit for me. Doing nothing all day but read has engulfed me in compunction, for surely that is not the way to live. I lament the deterioration of my relationships, the loss of my art, which, no matter how dilettante, are after all still mine, and my lack of sleep.
Or perhaps I am merely rationalizing my sloth. The lazy finds ways.
1 comment:
I feel the same way! :(
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