This is another pre-written post, coming from Sunday night, and rounding out the week of pre-written posts.
I've spent the last few hours trying as hard as I can to work on my Politics of Space final. Lots of other things came together today. I felt like I was in such a good place. But when I work on this -- I can't get the whole picture in my head. This is a difficult topic, and it's not my usual area.
It feels like all the gears in my head are spinning, more than fast enough, with plenty of force, but their teeth aren't connecting. They aren't moving each other, they aren't exerting any force. They're just spinning.
One of my earlier posts this week (from a writing binge yesterday) was about how it feels simultaneously shameful to use that energy, or to let it fail. I could let the gears connect elsewhere. They wouldn't move this machine, but they'd do something. The energy wouldn't be lost. It'd just be, I don't know. Stolen. Diverted. It feels so strange. Like I'm underwater and scratching at a thin layer of ice, that I could easily break if only I weren't so out of breath. Sorry for mixing metaphors.