Felix Culpa

I’m tired of deadlines. I’m tired of this damned theatre project. I’m tired of cold, miserable days. I’m tired of being so far away from everyone. I’m tired of not having all of my things in one place, where I can reach them. I’m tired of having to rely upon the telephone. I’m tired of uncertain job routes and prospects. I’m tired of questioning my worth. I’m tired of holding my tongue. I’m tired of mark sheets. I’m tired of pretentious debates. I’m tired of not doing any creative writing. I’m tired of technically “not having the time” to do anything. I’m tired of technically “not having the money”.  I’m tired of the uncertainty of the immediate future - will I get it done, or won’t I? Will I be seeing you soon? Am I going to get drenched as I walk home from class in the dark today? I’m tired of liminality, performativity, historiography, ethnography and dramaturgy within the context of the classroom. 

I feel like life it just beginning, for all of us, and I am eager to start - but I don’t want to have to wade through a sea of numbers that don’t actually reflect anything that I know and understand about the world and my subject within it. 

The only option is to carry on, and that doesn’t always fill me with as much bitterness as it might seem at first. Sometimes, I hate nothing more, but at the same time, standing still and refusing to go on isn’t going to get me anywhere, either. And there is so much to live for.