I went for my Sunday morning run this morning, and it turned into a walk as I talked with a friend. She let me ramble a bit about my current situation, and I eventually worked my way out of the circle of words and landed on the cycle that I'm stuck in. I'm treading water right now in a sea of chaos. Let's ignore the pathological side of this for a minute and focus on the aspects of the chaos that are bothering me. Here's the deal: 1. My house is a mess. 2. When my house is a mess, I cannot concentrate. 3. When I cannot concentrate, I am not productive. 4. When I'm not productive, I cannot work. 5. When I cannot work, I cannot pay my bills. 6. When I cannot pay my bills, I worry. 7. When I worry, I waste time. There's where I'm stuck. My house is a mess because I live with someone who leaves items on tables, the floors, and counters. I live with someone who does not wash dishes and thinks it's okay to pile them on top of said tables, floors,

No longer what we were before, but not all that we will be. Forgive me for doing the unforgivable--using a quote out of context. That line from a Pam Mark Hall song certainly sums up what's on my mind today, but the message of the song is about more than the mundane issues I'm struggling with today. This struggle is not new, and I've written about it plenty of times in the nine years I've had this blog. Present day life rarely measures up to the way our past selves imagined it. My thirteen-year-old self wanted to be married before 20 and give birth to my four children before I was 25. We would all live on a farm where I would spend my days doing laundry, playing with my children, cooking meals, and writing poetry and music. (It was a grand plan for using the degree in classical languages or philosophy that I wanted.) Working as an English teacher with a psychology degree, divorced at 32, remarried at 36, and nearly going bankrupt thanks to immigration issues and l