Standing Still and False Starts

It's been a fairly unproductive week for me. It's been an unproductive several years. That's going to change soon. There's promise on the horizon. The promise of something better or something worse, I cannot say. After what happened last year there's not a whole lot of ground for worse.

I'm still in a preliminary mode. I feel like I'm at the start of the path I was supposed to be on years ago but instead of getting anywhere I'm stuck in the mud spinning my tires.

The stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Why is it that once I get to the last stage and I'm ready to move along I end up in a situation that makes me wonder if I should stay a little longer? Now that I'm getting ready to leave I'm meeting people that I wish I'd met months ago.

I haven't wrote much lately. Nothing at all, really. I have engaged in a worthwhile surrogate - reading. I've read two very great and very different works of literature in the past week. It breaks my heart to see what passes for a novel these days, and sadder still when I hear those not much younger than I am say that they're not really into reading.

This has been another entry wrought with false starts while I don't really get anywhere. Soon, though. Soon.
Take care.