Draggin'

There are times when school helps me to feel as if my life has some purpose and meaning; I feel like I'm on a path to figure out what the best use of my remaining time on the planet might be good for. Then, there are times when I can't figure out what the hell I was thinking. This is one of those weeks.

The last couple chapters of the Argyris book were well nigh impossible to stuff in my brain. I was already fried from writing all weekend. Now we have a presentation to prepare, and I'm pretty burnt out. Our next teacher already sent us the syllabus for the next class, and it's a doozy. Lots of reading before the first class, lots and lots of writing. Much more writing.

Sometimes the artist part of my brain chimes in and says, "what the hell are you doing here in organizational corporate land? This is not your ouvre." Sometimes I'm inclined to agree, but then I remember how much I dislike the life of an "artiste", and how much more of my time I spend obsessing over stupid shit when I'm less engaged in work/life.