I didn't write last week, and it felt like skipping a workout.
The words were there, but they were all jumbled up in my head, swirling with emotion, mixed with selfish, civic, global intents. I am
navigating a career transition, while
contemplating my white privilege, while
hurting for people of color, while
concerned about rising pandemic numbers.
My focus is scattered. I am
walking and enjoying birdsong, then
reading How to Be An Antiracist, then
dreaming about library renovations, then
watching the news, then
processing library books, then
ordering fashionable face masks, then
reading funny kidlit, then
bemoaning the mess I've brought home.
My motivation and energy levels vacillate from one day to the next, one hour at a time. There is so much to do, which means so much to avoid. I am
playing computer solitaire more,
I sit at home whimpering, while life is banging loudly around me.