Tuesday, December 29, 2009

The end-of-year blues

My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,

The last of the Christmas feast was consumed for lunch today, and most of the desserts are dwindling. It's always a depressing thought because it means that the new year is about to begin. It's always been the case that the new year brings some serious blues until March, at least. It's an uncomfortable feeling, like meeting a rather lukewarm stranger for the first time. Round about March, though, the ice starts to break a bit and by June, one has a good feeling of what this new acquaintance is all about and where things are heading. The period of complete relaxation and comfort around each other comes in mid-October and lasts, of course, until a day or so after Christmas.

Part of me is ready to resume my studies, but the other part is rather soured on the whole ordeal and wants to break off and participate in unorthodox artistic efforts. I feel compelled to join a blues band and ramble around the country, to write and direct films, to photograph as much of the remaining natural untouched land as possible, to hole up in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with a typewriter and tons of paper...

I think this comes from losing focus on becoming a doctor. Last term, I was too wrapped up in trying to stay afloat in the brutal courseload I signed on for and paid no mind as to the purpose. Medical school seems so far away for some reason, despite the fact that I'll (hopefully) be there at this time in two years. Hmm.

Spoke with Old Flame for two hours on the phone today, and halfway through the conversation I wondered if I should just stop. I'd gotten irritated, unbeknownst to her, as has been the case many times. For all our similarities, we have just as many differences...and some of them get under my skin. She's more in tune with the popular culture gossip rubbish that I so desperately despise and would eradicate from regular news broadcasts and publications given the chance. Anytime she brings that up, I guess it reminds me that she isn't right for me, and I get agitated thinking about all the time I wasted thinking that she was. It's silly, and it's embarrassing, but that's the way it is. I thought being a grown-up meant seeing the end of these kinds of complications. ha ha ha.

May the grace of He keep you always,

J.O. Morris

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