I guess this is the downer followup to a spirited cheerful post of May, when I was still young and idealistic and looking forward to the future and all the opportunities it held.
August is like the depressing, soul-sucking Sunday evening of the summer. All of the potential and openness of Friday afternoon (early June) is gone, the time is now wasted, the mistakes have been made. Back in May and June all things were possible. Now it's too late and there's barely enough time to prep for Monday. All those things I was going to finally accomplish when I had a bit of extra time. Where did it go? How did I accomplish so little-- both "constructive" things (reading, writing, publishing, fixing courses; gardening, working on the house, getting my shit together) and "fun" things (travel, getting out, hitting the river, biking, drinking, playing Borderlands 2, etc)? I guess I can pinpoint what extra b.s. absorbed so much of my time, but so disappointing.
Just sharing this low-level angst/ disgruntletude/ mild self-hatred.
Guess I should work on that syllabus and that book review. Feh.