I am once again reading fifteen books at once. I have decided that this is actually me favorite way to read: in clumps, grouped vaguely by subject matter, all at one time, and with a ratio of one fiction to eight nonfiction.
I am researching a bit for the paper for my writing class and in the interim have come across about eight billion books on women and history and economics and the like so I’m just gonna read ‘em all. HA!
This is making it a bit difficult to maintain the train of thought in my history class though so I’m going to have to switch gears for at least a day to get caught up on that one. We didn’t have a reading this week so I’m sort of out here in plants-and-women land which is ok for now but I have to make sure not to blow off my buddy Columbus in the meantime. I’m lousy at pacing myself.
This whole having a paper is so exciting to me that I can hardly stand it. I think maybe I’ve been missing writing a little more than I care to admit. I had a field day in the crappy local b and n women’s studies section so clearly I’m into the whole research thing, although I think I am likely going overboard for a 3-5 page essay. It’s exciting, though.
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The trouble with exciting is that my version of excited is less ‘happy bunny’ and more ‘grim determination.’ This makes me less than pleasant to be around most of the time. I don’t know how to compartmentalize the parts of my life that don’t really intersect, like how to remember to smile at both my kids *and* my husband or how to take breaks to relax with all of them instead of just when the baby needs a nap. I’m trying to figure it out but I think maybe in this case it’s more a matter of stopping the thinking long enough to let myself chill out a bit.
I don’t know how people get shit done and have fun too and I’d really like to figure it out so that my family doesn’t dread being around me.
