An Internal Monologue

karmaṇy evādhikāras te	You have a right to your actions,
mā phaleṣu kadācana	but never to your actions' fruits.
mā karma-phala-hetur bhūr	Act for the action's sake.
mā te sańgo 'stv akarmaṇi	And do not be attached to inaction.

-Bhāgavad Gītā, 2.47
Work is at the centre of my being currently. When left to my own devices I drift. I wander. I begin to lose touch with reality. My body creaks, and my mind begins to steam. As my body temperature gradually lowers from it's day-long 99.8°F to a balmy 98.6°F I contemplate the next day.

Soon it will be done, and I don't know what I'll do. At this point, whatever I'm currently doing is my life, and I owe none other allegiance but my stomach and the need to stop when it's time to do the next thing I have planned.

The last day I had off was Wednesday, February 14th. Between then and now, I've missed nearly a whole 24-hour period due to illness, and spent only one other away from school (at a rehearsal in Seattle). Saturday, things should come to a screetching halt. I only hope I've built up enough to do that I won't pitch over into the abyss.

I feel like an automaton, like I'm losing my personality. Out of touch and withdrawn. I try the social thing, but don't feel like I'm in the right place. My contempt for people, their stupid choices and their misguided values, it's almost impossible to hide. I keep my camera with me nearly all the time, yet can't bring myself to take pictures of anything. Art is dead, and I'm sitting inside myself, looking out the window at the world and secretly wishing I could go outside and play.