writing block.

I just made some blueberry coffee, thanks to my Keurig - which has been a LIFE SAVER this semester. I am bringing it with me for my summer in NC, because I start to get separation anxiety when I think about not having the option to make coffee anytime I want. No doubt this will not help my insomnia tonight....I was up until almost 5am last night, and haven't really been able to go to sleep much before 2 or 3 for a good week and a half, two weeks now. I think maybe the stress of the end of the semester, the stress of the upcoming summer and my finances (or lack thereof), finding a job, thesis topics, writing, feeling like I need to Publish Something Amazing Now, etc, is not helping things and sending my bodily clock into confused circles.
Columbia is prepping the campus for graduation, we got an email about how the School of the Arts is locked down for a night next week so the Secret Service can sweep it for Obama's visit for Barnard's commencement, and undergrads and graduate students are showing their families around Morningside Heights and campus, giddy with what their next plans are (and quaking in their flipflops about paying back loans - oh, sorry, that's just me). I have been combing Craigslist for jobs, posted a thing about nannying, and applied for several jobs that ACTUALLY make use of my MPH. Who knew? Although to be honest, all I really want to do is go back to the bookstore. It was a community there, and I knew our customers, and loved interacting with the authors that would come to the store for readings. I loved chatting with the publishing reps, reading ARCs and getting to be around books all day. Sigh.

Last night was my party with my Narrative Medicine class, and a little more than half the class was there, and I had a great time, even if it WAS in Brooklyn. I survived the trip to the outer borough, and actually really liked it. I had a wonderful time at the party, and I have to say, I am really going to miss them. We're trying to put together a writing group in the fall, so hopefully this is not the end.
I haven't written in over a week. This is not good. I've just been so tired and, in my defense, I've been reading a lot. I've sold a lot of books back to the indie bookstore near my house, and gotten more, and then sold THOSE back, and with the credit, gotten more, etc. It's kind of cool that I can do that. The owner of the store is well acquainted with my reading habits, and just laughs when I bring my bag of books in.

I know I should start writing - just getting pages down, just putting my butt to the chair and pen to paper, but it's overwhelming, and this feeling of being overwhelmed paralyzes me and makes me just want to lay on the couch and think, or read. I don't think this bodes well for the summer.