hang in there

I fell in love with both reading and writing in my formative years because of the excessive dysfunction around me. I devoured fiction because it brought me away from reality. I wrote because of the reality I could create. they were both ways to escape what was real.
what is real now is that those ways to escape sometimes become the things I want to escape. I don't often read or write for pleasure anymore. even the fiction I read is connected to work most of the time. sure, I'd love to read flannery o'connor for pleasure - but really I'm studying her because I have to teach her. and writing... well, this blog is the extent of my "creative" writing these days (and we all know how much I do that!).
what to do? not much, I suppose. just "hang in there" like the little kitten in the 80s kindergarten poster said. this too shall pass (not to use another cliche...) and perhaps some day soon, when the degree-seeking-ocd-student-maniac-two-jobs-no-time days are long gone, I will be able to read the long list of fiction titles and write a few poems. until then, I guess I'll just "hang in there".