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Blank Pages

Over the last two weeks, I read Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein. If you can set aside your prejudices toward science fiction and can appreciate theories even if you don't agree with them, this book is a must read. I thoroughly enjoyed the characters and the plot. (When I told my father last night that I read the book, he said, "Oooohh, I remember that book. My high school French teacher recommended it.)

One idea that has stuck with me is the fact that the "Man from Mars" withdraws into himself after he experiences any great emotion or struggles to learn a new concept. He has to have time alone away from the world to process what's happening around him. Once he does this, he's able to move on.

I get that. Right now there's nothing I want to do more than crawl under a blanket and sleep. Or run across the country ala Forrest Gump. A remote cabin in northern Canada sounds divine. So much has happened lately. So many ideas are flooding my brain. So many feelings are coursing through me. And I haven't had the time to sit and process and let these experiences and ideas and emotions become part of my life's fabric.

Even my journal is empty.

But I hope not for long.
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