Waffels

Okay, The Netherlands isn't exactly known for its waffels. For a great authentic sugary waffel-kick, you'd need to be someplace in Belgium, about 50 minutes by train from here to Antwerp. But the kind of waffeling I'm referring to here isn't the kind you can eat. It's the kind I've been doing for the past several years while mothering, being pulled in various directions, wondering where I should be, who I should be, what I should be doing. One of my principle questions: Why do I keep calling myself a writer? Why am I not willing to part with this idea? It's one of the great downfalls of being a relativist, a self-abnegationist. Self-abnegation als kunst.