Rocks and Sand

It's funny how college eats up time. I find myself dividing my day up into blocks of it, by classes, work, free; morning, afternoon/evening time. 3 of my evenings each week are full. It always takes a half-turn of the minute hand, or 3/4 of a turn, for any meal- more if there are other people involved. These blocks of time are my rocks in a jar, and there are scant open spaces left to be filled by the normal, banal things of life. The pebbles and sand. But then when I reach an empty space, where I COULD be doing anything- writing, homework, chatting, laundry, reading... I find myself not wanting to do any of it. I want something else. What? I don't know... to get away from this atmosphere maybe? To indulge in escape by watching TV or reading a book (but if I do, I feel guilty that it's not some of the pages and pages and endless loose pages of reading I have to do for class, so it's usually TV, which as of yet is untainted).
It's not that I don't like what I do with my life. I do. There are even parts of it that I love. It's in the in-between times, when I realize that all my best, most caring, wonderful friends and people that I'm attached to are all somewhere-other-than-here-with-me. Those are the times that make me want - instead of forging out into the world to make more such connections - to escape into fiction. To relax. To stop, and think, and figure out what is the deal with this weird existence we call life.
over 'n out.
E.O.