I'm not going to whine.
But I think I should read 'The purpose driven life' and maybe glean some tips.
I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I truly feel like I'm going down a meaningless road with no clear goal, no real purpose, no meaning, no real idea of what will be attained. I hate my masters' classes. They bore me, and I view it more as professional development that can be useful rather than educational, true brain food. I'm not sure where it will take me, if anywhere.
I love writing. I want to be writing more. I want to write four to five hours a day. Short of getting up at 4 a.m. or going to bed at 4 a.m. that isn't happening. So I don't even feel I'm accomplishing anything in that area, which is the most painful of all.
I'd like to just 'have faith' that this road is the right one, but when you're just heading down the road cuz it's the only one for miles, wondering if you're lost or should have turned right way back when or at the last left when you felt maybe you were kinda lost, it's hard to have that faith.
I mean, where is this road going? What if it's one of those long midwestern roads that don't actually lead anywhere except to dirt roads, dead ends, or a cross roads with equally long empty roads?
What is my purpose?
I think Asimov's robots had a greater sense of place and being than I do right now.
I do not feel like 'me' in this life. I feel like I'm 'pretending' in a role that clearly I suck at.
I mean, I love the boys. I love reading them their silly train books, and the bear book and the wild things. I love that they cuddle up with me to the couch and lean their heads on me to get a look at the pictures. I love that i know my daughter is home safe after school and that she can just go flop on the couch and chill with me in the kitchen after school. Yet, I feel I should be accomplishing more.
Someone Hep Meh.