Reflections

I finished my first semester of grad school the other day. I came home to my precious Lancaster and settled back into my parents' house. So the only thing to ask myself is now what? What do I do with myself now?

I am used to working constantly. I may be writing papers or working at my partnership. I may be cleaning my apartment or reading a book on a historical event. Point is I work constantly. I never really allow myself to have down time. And since I returned home, I am not quite sure what to do with myself.

So to occupy my time, I have been playing video games, but not as much as I would like to. Most of my time has actually been spent baking. I bake some mean holiday cookies, and so far, I have turned out four different kinds in less than a week. Tomorrow I'll turn out two more.

And in between baking cookies, I have been working on a short story. Even though I only have a few pages written, this is actually the first time in years that I have written anything of fiction. It's not like I have not tried. I used to have a very active writing imagination. I used to write all the time, but it stopped once I started anti-depressants which I think may have fried that portion of my brain. I have never really gotten over the death of the me that was before anti-depressants, but since I stopped taking them a few years ago, a new person emerged, unfortunately, it has been one who can no longer write something as simple as a short story.

But today I've had a spark that I have not felt for a long time. I suddenly had the urge to write a short story about a deep space probe. And while I feel like the story is not very good, what is important is that I have suddenly regained a small part of my brain that I thought died long ago.