staircases

In a limbo state again, which is not conducive to peace of mind. This is not a time of happy relaxation with literally nothing to do but chill - which I would dearly love to have. Instead, I'm bogged down by worries and anxieties, more than ever - What's next? What about work? When do I get to move out? How much does it cost? When do I start feeling like an adult with some worth? How easy the MBA's have had it, it seems.

Introspection came easier during the period of MPhil writing; it's harder to do with so much free time. Perhaps because during MPhil everything was a way of procrastination, and nothing seemed more important than gazing into that screen of endless meaningless words. 

There's so much to do, so much to be done. I'm thankful that I'm not completely at loose ends; I'd go nuts. In the past couple of weeks I've done things that I've never tried before - took a kickboxing class, taught an MA class. I've bought a truckload of books that I'm looking forward to reading.

And yet, there's that niggling feeling that all these are things to just plug into the void of nothing to do. Things to do to pass the time till the next hurricane, the next transformation.

Someone in real life said the other day that they feel the return of the 80's feminist anger against all men. The ones on the street are lecherous assholes, the ones in our lives are conciliatory idiots who don't understand. 

Someone on the internet said making lists to organise their life made it easier to free up their brains to do other stuff. Maybe I'll try that.