I've gone 3 weeks now, without fulfilling my commitment to make coffee at 1313 for the Mondays in May.

I'm not even sure if I will make good attempts to brew the coffee over the next two Mondays.

Partly because of fear... uncertain if they will be angry or critical of me for my truancy thus far.

Partly because of a different fear - that of being late to my paid job, at 10 p.m. Even though the meeting ends at 7 p.m. and the bus system is fairly reliable.

It's not like making coffee is difficult; as I've done this commitment multiple times in the past easily and with much praise. It's not like making the meeting is a challenge, either; as I can get plenty of sleep between now and then, and I know the bus schedules and the weather is probably going to be sunny.

I see parallels between this and between my past employment truancies, which were fueled by not wanting to explain why I called in sick when I really just didn't want to do the work.

There's the rub, I guess. My heart's not in this service commitment. That, in turn, points at a deeper resentment of doing AA 12th Step work, or offering to be a sponsor, or even sharing; because I'm not getting any feedback. I don't see people acknowledging that I have anything to offer. I wonder if I'm not paying enough attention to catch the subtler signs of acceptance.

I haven't seen outright criticism, or practical jokes. That, coupled with severe course disruptions (.666 gpa), probably led to my abandoning Alpha Phi Omega; even though I was a Top Ten volunteer for the two semesters that I was active in that...

Then again, maybe people think I'm too serious, too intimidating. Yeah, I try not to make jokes, because I can see how jokes can be lightly-veiled attacks. ...or maybe I come off as untrustworthy, because I'm not trusting you enough to joke around.

Probably all just psycho-babble processing.

I need a feedback loop.

I can't sustain operating in a vacuum.

Elusive sleep,
Chased away by caffeine?

Or just delayed
By sleeping so late,
Yesterday?

"The Mind-Killer" (P.o.t.D. 5/13/16)

Fear lurks in the shadows of my brain,
Just waiting to eat me alive again.

A poem percolates, simmers, and stews
All but devoid of today's news...

Like an ostrich tasting dusky desert sand,
The ideas feel so blocked, perhaps banned.

I want to write, but I know not what to write about;
Leaving me to throw incoherant tantrums
Where I jump up and down and incoherently shout...
As it all boils down, some juicy bits I hope to trim....