I wrote a longer entry, but I decided to cut it all down

I had a long to-do list today, and I got most of the things done. This is one of them. Another was to finish the Asimov book The Currents of Space. I really liked it - at least compared with some of the other books I've read by Asimov recently, where all the characters - no matter what the setting - seem like 1950s suburban stereotypes. Currents allows its characters a little mystery: dignity and madness. No jolly gee willikers and chain smoking.

Class was fun today: for the first time, we actually went over some exercises in class with the computers in front of us. I realize that's how I imagined the class would go from the beginning, but here we are, five weeks into it. I've been giving myself extra homework so I can get more practice, and I am getting quite comfortable with the language.

That's about it. It's been a solid day. The only significant thing to consider is that I did not get everything done on my list. It's fine that I didn't get everything done - I realize that I can come up with unrealistic workloads for myself. What I'm wondering is how to come up with more realistic work loads. Everything seems important yet - I can't do everything. The contradiction at the heart of my life for the past few months.

I am working through my feelings earlier this week, slowly. My life is well-suited to working through emotions. I feel I could use more close companionship during the week - it all tends to get pushed to the weekends.  But it's good that I'm feeling that, that I'm realizing that. I want to say I've gotten to another level of vulnerability down in me, which could be entirely true. I could do still more to be forgiving with myself, happy with myself, full in myself. Truly dealing with the feeling of loneliness, rather that simply trying to cover it up.

What I wrote in the longer entry boils down to this: thinking about haiku, I realize that I normally think of myself as detached from the core of reality - from truth, from what is real. Like tunnel-vision. An image that comes to mind is being in a play without a script - feeling the need to act, but feeling like the knowledge I need to act is not really at hand. Other people no doubt feel the same way. The silly part is: we could all relax and grow if we all admitted we don't have the script - but we don't. We choose to protect the momentum of this big show of ours rather than face the truth. Saying you don't know your role is an uncomfortable vulnerability. What would get us all to let it go?

So there it is, in a paragraph. A nice metaphor for life, if a little complicated. Don't call Hallmark anytime soon.

Dream well, all.