Part of me

wants to write until my fingers are weary but it seems that a more powerful part wants to pretend that writing isn't something that I can be successful at doing. So I think of things to say but when it comes time to put them down in readable form I sort of let them slide right off the tabletop of my mind. I find a good book or watch tv or go for a ride, or lately I just go to bed instead of sitting up for hours working on this writing thing until it grows a shape, takes on a meaning, a life of its own.

Things fall apart . . .

Chinau Ichebe wrote this book. I read it during my post graduate year and while I was working on finishing my teaching credential. It's about what an African tribes man feels and learns as, he says, things as he knows them fall apart. I recognized what he was saying and why it was important to know it then but now I have to go back and re-read it. Things are still falling apart.