Every time I think I have something to write about, I suddenly find that I don't. Why was it so easy when she was a small baby to find things to expound upon here? I feel like a fragment of my brain has been misplaced somewhere -- and I don't know where to find it.
I wonder to myself where my ambition has gone, my intense and burning desire to leave my mark, to rise to the top and all the rest of it. I wonder where my ideas went, where my inclination to start a line of this or that, to write that book, that screenplay, submit that article...? I know that I am more busy now than ever with Nahanni, but at the same time, there's this nap time, right - we're in it right now. I tell myself that I should be writing for one hour, exercising for the other, but more often that not I'm trying to keep ahead of the tide of untidy which never seems to leave my shores. I just cannot shake this feeling that my motivation has abandoned me altogether...and I somedays too tired to even care.
It's a sort of fugue state I'm in, I think. I am wafting around in a little cloud and I haven't yet figured out what will spark my next phase of Ultimate Genius! Hell, even relative genius. Middling genius?
I don't know. Where's Oprah when you need her? OH right. Oprah has a mysteriously unlimited supply of energy, ambition and genius.
Then again, she doesn't have any kids to distract her...
Yeah, yeah, Angelina Jolie. Piss off.
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