On the Consolations of Philosophy

[serinde]

In which I begin to wonder how much of my mental static has been because I haven't slowed down enough to reflect and write in, like, months: no morning pages, no thoughtful posts, just stupid Facebook ephemera. (When I'm riding my bike, I get at least some pure thinky time, and that's something, but I've been able to do that all of thrice since the holidays.)

It is also, I think, indicative that my immediate reaction to this thought was "oh Christ where'm I going to fit this in?".