When reality is preferable to dreams
It's great to wake up from a horrible anxiety nightmare (back to school, forgot the students' faces, class full of monsters who won't stop screaming, and then the principal walks in and says, "I can see you're having some trouble") to get a few e-mails from students writing to show me their work and tell me they miss me.
Kids: Much cooler in real life than my unconscious makes them out to be.
Kids: Much cooler in real life than my unconscious makes them out to be.
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I wonder if that kind of anxiety is necessary. I used to believe that it was. Now I think that people might be good at what they do regardless of their worries about it.
Yeah, I'm distracting myself from a fairly interesting thesis proposal concerning law enforcement and the Mexican drug cartels (and already I have used the term inelastic market - damnit)
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Without guilt and anxiety, I do nothing. Seriously. I would sit around and watch TV all day and not even blog about it. I need a bit of guilt to even write trashy things or blog posts, and that's what I consider relaxing.
And it does pay off. I think the e-mails from my kids would have brought a smile to my face in any event, but it was a much happier feeling contrasted with the shit way I started the day.
I think the degree of anxiety with which I live is kind of over-the-top, though. I'm pretty much worried all the time, and it's a bad way to exist.
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