Another world.

This summer has been a psychological experience. Sure, we've got chickens going and some plants here and there. More than anything I've just been adjusting to my role as a mother and a human being.
It feels like it wasn't too long ago that I even realized I was a human being. I wasn't an ignorant kid, or a sheltered kid, but my world just didn't include many of the things that it now includes.

I'm burnt out on information. I don't want anymore information. I don't want to read anything else. I don't want to think anything else. I don't want to care anymore in any way. This is what my husband tells me every day. He said some things today that made me realize he knows me better than anyone else, and he tells me I think about too many things and get caught up in too many things. Maybe I do.

My husband reads fiction. He has read classics and science fiction and philosophy. He has read the Bible and the Koran front to back. He has read all of this stuff, but he loves fiction.

Don Delillo, Philip K Dick, Thomas Pynchon, John Steinbeck. In fact it was Steinbeck who sent us here. East of Eden that sent us here.

I'm not really the person that I think I am. I'm someone else.
I love being outside but my mind needs stimulation constantly. I'm the ideal office worker. I plan and I budget and I boss people around. I just need someone there to listen to me.

But now I'm tired. I'm so tired of planning and budgeting. I'm tired of creating scenarios in my head and trying to fulfill them. I'm tired of not knowing where to start and trying to come up with the motivation to do it anyway.
Yet, I have to. I feel like I have to. I feel driven to accomplish something that requires more work and more resources than I've ever had to pull together.

I can do it.