Angoel (angoel) wrote,

The trouble, I find, with posting about my life in anything but the briefest and oblique terms is my fetish for completism. Whenever I post I feel an urge to fill in the background of what has happened in the mean time, which means that when I get round to posting, I look at the collection of events that has occurred since the previous recap, decide that I cannot possibly do justice to even a small subset of them, and do the moral equivalent of going to the garden and hiding under the rhubarb bush.

Since I last provided a sensible post, I have survived a work crisis. Barely, and with the wounds still not quite healed. I have travelled to the Essen games fair in Germany where I met with publishers who were generally complimentary about my efforts. I have been presented with a certificate declaring me to be a Fellow of the Institute of Actuaries with pomp and ceremony reminding me of various Cambridge traditions. I have attended two read-throughs which reminded me of the fun I find in acting and pleasant company and drained me with the strain of meeting new people. I have suffered months worth of on-and-off cold and spent the last week in bed trying to get over it.

I find myself sitting here feeling as if my life is at a crossroads, but not quite sure where to go, or even how many roads there are and what they look like. In my minds eye it is misty - the fields around are lush and green and you can see trees close by, but the mist obscures the pathways.
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