Just got back from a post-work beer with Theresa O'Rourke, James Morrow, and Liz Zack. They're all real journalists with real journalist jobs. I'm just a writer, and one who doesn't feel like writing that much right now, at that.

I couldn't stop taking notes when I was in San Francisco, stealing time with my journal in hidden corners when I was away from friends. On the plane ride back I wrote for hours. But once I get back here, I feel flat and uninspired again.

I'm pretty sure that has something to do with my job. New York City is raging with inspiration, but I am owned by somebody. They own my words.

I know I've been bitching about this for months, but it's never been more apparent than at this moment. For five days I was full of ideas, and then, suddenly, I'm empty again. I'm not saying that I've been completely tapped out, because I've written some good stuff over the last few months. It's just as not as much as I would like, and none of it, I feel, is great. It's just not the caliber I demand of myself.

So I made a decision today to stick with my original plan, the one I've been working towards for the last four months. I'm taking off this summer. I need at least two months to travel and write. I need to refill my mind. I need to experience new things. And I also need to find a way to filter what by then will be six months of relatively untapped experiences. If I keep working, I'll never be able to get it all out on paper.

I think some people will be disappointed in this decision. There are people who see me moving up, see my potential. Hey, I see it too. I know I can accomplish anything I put my mind to, and I can do it differently than most. I also tend to do it well under budget, which seems to make me popular.

But I see my writing potential, too, and it's just too important to me to waste it. The fact is, I was supposed to be done with this project by the end of April, and I could have been done, but I got lulled by the regular paycheck and the increasing control I achieved over the quality and consistency of my output. So I agreed to stay till the end of May. And now there's talk of another project for me, one that I'm sure I would somewhat enjoy, but that would keep me from the break I so desperately desire.

This has to stop. I know the economy is fucked, and is getting worse, and some people might think I'm crazy for leaving a cush job. But I just have to stop working for a while, and try to get some things out of me.

I feel better just knowing I've finalized my decision. Now I just have to figure out where I want to go this summer. Europe? San Francisco? Seattle? Or do I stay here in New York and see what I can uncover? I'm going to focus on that part of my future for a while. I know it's going to make me happy.

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