I am a man of fits and starts. You can see that in this blog. I write and then I slide. It happens with everything in my life. Even my drinking was that way for a while. I’d binge and then walk away for weeks. Then the times between binges got shorter. Until drinking became the one consistency in my life. It’s strange that an erratic specimen like me could only commit to the bottle and nothing else. Well, I’ve committed to sobriety and, so far, I’ve stuck with it. I guess it’s not so strange after all.
OK, back to the narrative thread. I’m thinking about fits and starts because I’m in Limbo. My life is sort of on hold while I hear back from grad school. I wonder if grad school was just a contrivance to give me direction. Direction? Me? It’s hard to lay down longterm goals when I’ve got the attention span of a puppy. But I’m trying. Grad school gives me a plan of action to build a new career. The entire process is enforced by professorial task masters who will keep me in line. Direction. That’s what I need.
But what if I don’t get accepted? What then? Will I continue to weave through life rudderless?
I wonder about that. I almost said “I’m worried about that” but I’m not. Maybe I should be. I sank into a funk a few days back when I thought about my spinning compass. I can’t say I was depressed. I was just numb. But then I thought about recovery. I’m taking this time to heal. So, technically, I am doing something. It’s not a direction in the sense of a career but it’s more than a fit or a start. For right now, I guess that’s good enough.