Are the days growing shorter?

I wish I could have some stoppage time every night to write down everything that I was thinking during the day. This past three weeks I've been all over the place, but never really felt like I had enough time to write something more than just a report... more like a verbal x-ray snapshot, something that goes beyond what any third party observer would see. My nights are just so busy now.

Coming back from the Liwanag retreat, I feel more apprehensive about getting back in the "everyday" thing. I really think I'm a spontaneous person trying to squeeze into a routine. I think I keep looking for ways to stretch... stretch my thinking, my limits... break out of the same old. It's not just for the sake of being different though, because I feel like I'm already different enough. Looking back, I think it all stems from experience... and often my lack thereof. Sometimes I feel like I'm a walking contradiction, other times I feel like I can't hold onto anything close enough to be part of something. I'm still see myself as the one who knows people who don't know me. I'm not putting up any walls though. I don't like to bury my past or my pain. I just prefer to keep my door unlocked and my windows open.

And the porch light is on.