“Slip sliding away, slip sliding away
You know the nearer your destination, the more you slip sliding away.”
— Paul Simon

“We’d like to know a little about you for our files.”

I can’t focus.  Thoughts are disjointed when I need them to come together.

“We’d like to help you learn to help yourself.”

I’ve been up since  5 AM, running on four hours of sleep.   I should be further down the metaphoric road, closing in on my destination.

“Here’s to you Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know.”

Of course he does.  But listen up.  I’m stalled.  Fighting a bad case of “stuck-itis.”  Unfortunately, those thoughts left simmering on the stove a week ago have gone to mush.

“Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes.”

Normally, it’s easier to think than do.  You know us contemplative types:  we like to wonder, dream and ponder life.  Or projects.  Or whatever.

“Coo coo ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson…”

Instead thoughts are circling.  They won’t park.  I write a little.  To no end.  That’s not like me.

“Wo, wo, wo.”

And with my “capstone” project due for class — one I’d like to deliver in ten days or so — I need my old self back, the one who doesn’t struggle in pulling together loose threads of thoughts and sewing them up in a tidy bow.

“Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home.”

I guess I’ll eat bon bons until I pull myself together.  And whine and pray — I’m pretty sure this counts.  Hey Abba — what’s up?

“Heaven holds a place for those who pray.”

I’m giving Simon the slip.  No more Mrs. Robinson.  In need of a major distraction.  Going straight to ABBA.