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Rats, they make me crazy. Crazy, I'm crazy.

As can be expected when I reach a point of too much stress (I don't know if its this way with other people, too or not) I pretty just shut down and have to take some time off to just chill out or things get infinitely worse (example of infinitely worse: insomnia, uncontrollable crying, starving/binging, etc.  In short, what I'm saying is, there is a point where one can see another depressive episode on the horizon and one has an opportunity to do something about it.)  Unfortunately with stress and life, you can't necessarily take a day off from everything.  For example, there is laundry that must be done and food that must be bought in order to feed mouths (mines and Johns) that must be fed and there is, most importantly, rent that must be paid.  But, now that most of those things are done, I am in a position to sit back, relax and work on my dissertation.  Wait, that wasn't in the plan.  The plan was to sit back and relax.  I know.  That is relaxing.  Getting something done, having a sense of accomplishment makes me feel more relaxed and that makes me feel better about things in general. 

I know I only have, what, 2 actual returning readers, and if so I'm sure you're reading about the same things over and over and over again.  I seem to talk about the same things a lot.  I don't know.  I seem to figure things out and then forget things and have to figure things out again.  And, every time I figure something out it hits me and it seems like a revelation and I have to tell everyone about it.

 

My friend Stephanie was in London about a month ago and I went to see her while she was there. She told me about a book she had read about a woman who got divorced and then went on a little road trup and figured some things out.  I'll see if I can't find out what the book is called.  Anyway, Stephy said that one of this woman's revelations was that the reason why people tend to be so unhappy is that there is something they really reallywant to do, and they just aren't doing it.  Something they want to do and are capable of doing, I might add.  I was reading a few of my favorite blogs today, more on these to come, and it occurred to me that I was incredibly envious of them because they were doing what I want to do.  They are writing and having their stuff looked at on a regular basis.  I want to write and have stuff looked at on a regular basis.  And, there's nothing stopping me from doing so.  I'm even paying for space to do so, but I'm just not doing it on a regular basis.  Why am I not doing it? I have tons of material.  I'm an American living abroad.  I could write about that experience.  I could write about Wales.  I could write about Graduate school or my masters or about getting married.  But, am I?  No.  Instead I'm having weird little freak outs about not having time to do anything I want to do and not being able to get anything done when clearly this is not the case.  I was able to move in with John, (another topic I could be writing about) I was able to get into the masters program I'm in, I was able to complete the diploma stage and pick an interesting dissertation topic.  I'm clearly capable of making things happen, mostly I think I just have to stop thinking about it.  And, on that note, I'm going to go back to working on my dissertation for a little bit and then We'll see what happens.  

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