Agonies of a Young Author

Sometimes time curls inupon itself and passes by without noticing, while simultaneously stretching out longer than molecular taffy, each moment a perfect representation of infinity. I'm always reminded of the William Blake poem at these moments:

To see a world in a grain of sand,
and a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

Beautiful lines. I think it might have been the earliest verse of poetry that I memorized, although I admit that I was not some progidy child but rather one who watcher Lara Croft: Tomb Raider on repeat. But that's another story.

Anyways I feel as if I have finally woken up mentally. There was a haze that seemed to consume me these past two weeks- the effects of residual jetlag and adjustment to school I'm sure. Creativity was out of the question, as was any sort of exertion on my part beyond what was strictly necessary. But I have high hopes for the coming weeks. I'll gradually adapt to this semester's schedule, and gradually be able to carve out those hours for writing. I plan to be more ambitious and far-reaching in my writing career goals-- no more just writing X poems or X words a day, but publishing X pieces in X journals.

So, let it start.

But I'd love to hear an encouraging word from you all to keep in mind when I hit the next haze period.

Right Now:
What I'm listening to: 'Just Dance' by Lady Gaga
What I want most: more time in the day