rant

So I reread the poem I posted and was going to put a comment on there but decided to just post on here instead. It's funny how things creep up on you before you realize it. I have had some good news this week, I received the highest mark I have ever got for an essay I handed in before christmas. This is a big deal and I should be really happy about it but I'm not. I got a little embarrassed and then tried to forget it.

I'm a little flat. I want to be positive and enjoy what I am doing but I am not. Low. I guess I am low. I'm just whining and need to pull my finger out of my butt and get on with things.

There are things I want. There are are things I thought I wanted and am now indifferent about and there are things I know I don't want. Hmmm...

Poem

I promised a poem to Mog, but I couldn't bring myself to post the silly little Haiku she wanted me to. Here's something else instead:

Everybody knows.

They hear in your prayers

silent voices that stop

you, right where you stand,

staring out to sea.

Everybody sees

the scars that bare your soul

in the light of morning

and touch eyes so full

of Sorrow’s darkness.

Everybody knows

the words you softly speak,

eyes closed tightly against

black that caresses

all atrocities.

Everybody sees

your broken body lie

disassembled by your

thoughts, scouring a pit

of mournful anguish.

Certainties

So been a long time yet again. My life is a little overwhelming I guess at the moment.

This whole teaching lark is somehow exactly what I thought it would be and also disappointing at the same time. Teaching seems to be as I expected but I am not how I expected. I don't mean that I'm not as good as I thought I'd be (I'm pretty average for where I am) I guess I thought I'd feel differently about it than I do.

It is something that I could do for the rest of my life but I'm not satisfied. I guess there isn't such a thing as too busy to think of the dreams you're missing out on. I know without any doubt that what I should be doing with my life is writing. For the first time in my life I know that. I don't just think it would be fun if I could get my bum in gear as a hobby to write a book in spare time from a real job, which is how I felt before.

I'm not satisfied playing at it anymore. The trouble is there is no practical way to do this so I must keep on the path I'm on and hope that one day I'll find my way back.