How is it possible to have had a weekend to recuperate and still be exhausted by the time we come back to Monday?
I know I’m full of unanswerable questions lately, but the feeling of having been hit by a truck is just a little too hard to shake. While I can’t honestly say that I feel stressed out, it’s safe to say that I haven’t felt this tired in a while.
Ah, well. Another week will come and go, and I’ll be thinking the same thing come next Sunday. Hopefully I’ll have the good sense to spare you all and refrain from repeating myself. Admittedly, my personal exhaustion tends to become a theme during the semesters. This is because I tend to write about whatever runs through my head at 11:00 at night, and usually by that point in the day I’m too tired to think of anything else.
That’s not a complaint, really. Things could be much, much worse. And they aren’t, so I’m content. Busyness and weariness are two things that help form us into the people we are becoming. The carousel of the week goes around and around, each seemingly identical circuit leaving us a little older and a little wiser, if we have the good judgment to keep an eye on our surroundings. The metaphor crumbles at this point: carousels rarely take you anywhere (unless, of course, you have magically jumped into a chalk pavement-picture), but weeks take you further and further down the winding and rocky road of our lives.
So off we go into another week of fears and hopes, prayers and prayers answered, literary allusions and film allusions, missteps and triumphs. One week at a time.