Run on, Sentences.

Is there anybody out there?  Dear void? 

I know I have been a lackluster blogger since I moved (not that my updates were so lustrous when I was doing so consistently, but anyway...).  For a variety of reasons, it hasn't been a priority.  I tweet too much and update facebook regularly so people who aren't in my everyday life can feel like they're still connected via the social media leash, but most of the time I feel like keeping a blog that just chronicles what I'm feeling, learning, doing, etc. isn't a "legitimate" blog anymore.  If you're not sharing a fantastic recipe, promoting a life-changing product, or imparting some kind of divine revelation, then why are you blogging?  So you can essentially keep a public journal? Personal thoughts that the entire world wide web can read (but won't)?  Psh.  Lame.

Obviously I don't really think that.  I still read plenty of blogs that are beautiful examples of what I just described, but they belong to other people.  It's my thoughts that aren't worth much.  I know that's not necessarily true either, but that's what my fearful heart tells me when I entertain the thought of updating the blog, so I just move on to something else. 

I'm so very glad that I was fairly dedicated to updating this thing at one point.  Journaling has always been an important part of this Lonely Only's process, but since the move it's been neglected a bit.  There's been school and work and rehearsals and laundry and doing dishes and prepping food and pinching pennies and praying and worrying (SO much worrying) and trying to maintain relationships and be frugal and smart and a good steward of all my gifts, material or not, and taking care of myself. 

When I was in class, I didn't have much time to think about anything too far beyond the next deadline, which is good for my mental health, apparently, because since the summer has started, I have had entirely too much time to dwell on my doubts and fears.  The vast majority of my week is spent working in the law library computer lab.  Work consists of sitting behind a desk, occasionally restocking the printers with paper/toner and emptying the recycling bins, and then sitting behind the desk some more.  A LOT more.  Sometimes I can help people, but it's still mostly, after doing everything I know to do, "Oh.  Hmmm... I'm so sorry, but I don't know how to help you with that," or "That's something I can't do, [my supervisor's name] will have to take care of that.  I'm not sure where he is right now," then I add cheerfully, "but he's around!"  The IT guys have nothing if not job security.

So I'm on facebook and Twitter more than anyone should be.  I've been reading, which has been great.  I've knocked out six books thus far and have a stack waiting for me.  And that's not so bad as long as my thoughts keep quiet.  But yesterday I couldn't focus on my book anymore.  The fears and insecurities and doubts kept knocking at the door to my conscious mind, and by the time I had to slam my book shut, they were pounding mercilessly, begging for attention. 

So I gave in.  The door flew open, I entertained the thoughts and allowed my emotions to get the better of me until I just couldn't stand myself anymore and tried to distract myself again.  Sometimes that works for me.  I used to be very much the commander of my emotions and tried to beat them into submission with logic, but that didn't really help either.  All that did was suppress my feelings and fool me into thinking that they were some kind of fault I needed to fix, so they'd build up and build up and then I'd have to lose it and start all over again.  I realized that no matter the reason, there is in fact a reason behind whatever I am feeling, and that I need to allow myself to feel that--to grant myself that catharsis--so that I can move on and not have to deal with the remnants later.

But recently this allowance hasn't been working either.  All it's been doing is making me feel stuck.  "I'm in a glass case of emotion!"  Only it's a cubicle, literal and metaphorical.  I allow myself to feel and feel and feel, and then I have a difficult time getting out of whatever emotion has entrapped me. 

So, my feeble distraction attempt yesterday took the form of Hulu.  I hadn't been streaming anything at work because my ear buds accidentally took a trip back to T-Town last month, but I broke down this week and bought another pair (Thank you, Dollar Tree), and caught up on mindless TV.  That kinda worked (until the main character would have a thought or say something that reminded me of myself), but then I ran out of new episodes to watch. 

So then I made the social media rounds.  When I got to my Blogger Dashboard and there wasn't anything new, I decided to review my own blog.  And I'm so very glad I did.

Most of the updates were trivial, but it didn't matter because it was my trivia.  And there were some nuggets of truth.  Whether they were grand or universal or divine, I don't know, but again, they were mine. 

And I have been stuck.  Inside my apartment, inside a cubicle, inside myself (Thank God for rehearsals!).  I have been learning more about my craft (and being terrified about whether or not I'll be able to do it well enough [The "craft."  Gah, how douchey...]), but I haven't felt like I've grown outside of the craft.  I've been stunted by circumstance, and that's when it hit me that I'm in a place I've never been before.  I'm in a place that I used to describe in so many of my posts but had never really experienced it myself. 

No matter how awful things got before the move, I felt safe.

 I don't feel safe anymore. 

So learning looks different.  My actions and abilities look different.  My perspective is different, especially because I've been on the inside trying to look in.  Trying to stay safe (ironic when the craft is all about the opposite...).

Time to get outside (literally and metaphorically). 

Thank goodness Fridays are half days during the summer.  AND it's a three-day weekend!