Too Many Interests Make it Hard to Focus
A vague promise to be imperfect.
As I have almost made clear, this newsletter is meant to be a reflection on my slowing down, going gently, as Michael Nobbs, a leader, in my eyes, in living the slow life calls it, but in my writing and in my interests, I struggle to find focus or maintain a theme (the final criticism on my MA Thesis).
As example, the current stack of books next to my bed range from beat poetry, vegetarian cookbooks, executive function support, Roman Britain, Hercule Poirot, the science behind aging, and a chick lit book set on the edge of a cliff in Ireland that makes one of the characters sound like he’s got long legs attached to a neck. I don’t think it’s meant to be surrealist.
Not to mention the numerous writing drafts I’ve put down since I last wrote here, a number of drawings, a crochet shrug I’m in the middle of, bookbinding projects, domestic organizing, the numerous online courses I’ve registered for and started, the ever evolving quest for my Italian citizenship and practicing my Italian and…
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