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I thought quite assuredly that it had been much longer since my last post. However, June 2012 was still a relatively long time ago. I find that at this very moment I am both giddy and uncertain. There are so many wonderful things that I’m excited about but I am at a loss in trying to find the right order to do them in. As a result there are moments where I just seem to push paper around.

I just started reading The Great Gatsby last night and was so enthralled that I am again considering publishing my poems and working on a novel or novella. I am certainly no Fitzgerald nor am I as good as my best friend, pulp writer extraordinaire, Barry Reese. I often feel that I don’t have enough life experience and that it will show and be magnified if I attempted to seriously work on a piece. I fear the blinking of the damned insertion point on the page, waiting for thoughts, waiting for the stream of subconsciousness to make itself known.

And I know that they always say that you should write what you know. However, I typically find that my life is rather comfortably mundane. My imagination is not what it used to be. I wish it were. I desperately want to be enveloped by some sort of passion. I want to be able to hold on to it, I want it to nourish me, I want it to make me excited to wake up and do it everyday. I used to think very long ago that writing was that for me (and sometimes singing). That was long before I decided to spend so much time watching television. So much has changed in my life in that regard. I live with the constant companion of depression and it enjoys very much creating a stifling fog in my mind. It’s my, as Dexter would put it, dark passenger.

So very much to do. I have a to-do list at work that grows and never shrinks and I’m also in school again. I’m wondering if I should continue with classes. It’s not that I need it but I need to find some reason for it to be okay in my mind to not finish the sixth degree I’ve started. How clever would it be for me to have a tagline of “LaToya, giving you the sixth degree.” It’s not quite so catchy saying the fifth. I plead the fifth. Quite a problem to have.

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