(no subject)

I'd really like to sit and have a chat with someone now, but am instead diligently focusing on my essay. My arms itch, and it feels like practically every other thought I have is pulling me away from it, but I just keep guiding them firmly and gently back, and saying 'This is where you belong. Look at the pretty proteins. Isn't it clever how they fold up?' I have Bach orchestral suites, hot squash, and just the right frame of mind. It is enough and more than enough. I'm beginning what I've wanted to get on with for an awfully long time. It's even feeling good, sometimes.