today is sunday and tomorrow is monday and i can't tell where the week begins

Sometimes it is better to read than to write for sometimes you stumble upon something that more eloquently expresses your vitality than the insipid complaints you have resorted to making in place of saying something meaningful and accurate. I turn now to Sylvia Plath:

I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.

Thank you, Sylvia, love. I don't know that this offers any answers or gives me a direction in which to leap, but still I feel much better. And I think that maybe the week never begins but always is.