Manic Monday.
The tasks are looming above my head. The nerves are rising and it is just Monday morning. The smell of must have productivity is the in the air mixed with the knowledge of holiday's coming and unprepared-ness, overwhelmed, and simply sometimes just over it.
Paper is due just around the corner and the topic hasn't been approved. Awaiting this feeling is one which requires patience a virtue that somehow God keeps giving me to work on (go figure) and rest another word that I am not too familiar with either.
It is among these things that I write. The last paper was just submitted Saturday the smell of the freshly printed pages still linger in the air. Now the anticipation, trepidation, and monstrosity of the next even larger assignment isn't looming in the distance it is on my doorstep. What to do, what to do.
Again I write. The writing helps slow my mind, calm my nerves and prepares me somehow to be ready to write again in academia. Knowing this is a season is helpful and harmful. The clock is clicking for or against me depending on which way I view it for the moment and the nerves flair back up telling me there is only a certain amount of time in the day.
I breath, I eat, I sleep and I attempt tomorrow. So this week, if I seem frazzled or distant. Welcome to real life, welcome to reality and welcome to my brain that will be typing for the next 14 days. I will stop and enjoy family, I will stop and eat a bunch, but I will type, type, type to push through.
Here is to the next adventure.
Paper is due just around the corner and the topic hasn't been approved. Awaiting this feeling is one which requires patience a virtue that somehow God keeps giving me to work on (go figure) and rest another word that I am not too familiar with either.
It is among these things that I write. The last paper was just submitted Saturday the smell of the freshly printed pages still linger in the air. Now the anticipation, trepidation, and monstrosity of the next even larger assignment isn't looming in the distance it is on my doorstep. What to do, what to do.
Again I write. The writing helps slow my mind, calm my nerves and prepares me somehow to be ready to write again in academia. Knowing this is a season is helpful and harmful. The clock is clicking for or against me depending on which way I view it for the moment and the nerves flair back up telling me there is only a certain amount of time in the day.
I breath, I eat, I sleep and I attempt tomorrow. So this week, if I seem frazzled or distant. Welcome to real life, welcome to reality and welcome to my brain that will be typing for the next 14 days. I will stop and enjoy family, I will stop and eat a bunch, but I will type, type, type to push through.
Here is to the next adventure.
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