Occupying an entirely different headspace 5 days out of seven requires some decompressing, my work life and this is precisely the black and white between writing about noxious cancer causing chemicals, and well, poetry. Cram a social life, friends' freaking out, family, laundry, cleaning, and all the other biological processes between that to get my reality and inevitably, something falls short.
I'd been so resistant to starting this blog for the longest time that of course, the moment of its inception has to coincide with an equally critical transition at work. Naturally. Now that I want to do it, being kept from it fills me with some kind of civil unrest. I get guarded about my time, selfish about being able to just think - even if to friends, this inevitably looks like me doing much of nothing. They greet my vague allusions to being busy with raised eyebrows. "Are you making this whole 'busy' thing up?", Frugen #2 asks rather archly. I don't even bother answering.