It's been a long time coming since I wrote something new for Damola's blog, and since the effects of my last article have long worn out – here goes nothing:
Over the past few months I've had so much to write about. I moved out of my home for the summer, I got a great summer job, I feel closer to God, I have a very interesting roommate, I made some new amazing friends, and most of all my romance chart has been at an all-time high. So why haven't I put my feather pen on a sheet of crusty paper yet?
The answer is simple – I've got no time.
See, when things were just okay for me and my life was kinda mediocre, I'd write about all the things I wished I had or how someone new had broken my heart; I'd write about how I wanted perfect grades and a good job; I'd write about how I felt like I had no friends and I was alone in the world.
Well I've figured two things out this summer: The first is that I get inspired when I'm really sad or extremely happy, and the second is that its very hard to write when the latter is the case. As you will all soon learn, having almost everything you've ever wanted comes with a catch. In my case, I've got barely any time for the little things I used to love doing. A nice job means I'm always working; new friends means that when I'm not working (or even sometimes when I am working) my phone and skype are ringing off the hook(sometimes simultaneously); and having a boyfriend means that at least 25% of a day my head just wants to chill in the clouds and daydream.
I've got a million things on my mind and trying to organize them is a very odious task. In the midst of all this, I've been wanting to write about how I think my roommate is pissed at me because “I'm never around”, how I'm starting to read my bible again, how my surprising relationship began, and how I think I might be in love. But all I've been able to spoon out of my head and dish into LibreOffice Writer (kinda like MsWord for Linux) is this article. What exactly is this article anyway?
Some days I feel like I'm being spread too thin – I'm just a little knife swab of butter and everyone is trying to get some of me on their large slices of bread. And I want to be on your slices of bread – I really do! But I'm just one swab of butter. I can't be everywhere at once no matter how hard I want to be. I guess this is a cry for help. I'll do everything I've promised I'll do – I'll write, and I'll read, and I'll cook and clean, and I'll run those errands and reply those emails – I just need time.
Ekene May Arinze