To use a very geeky metaphor, it feels like laurie_robey and I are Frodo and Sam trudging our way across Mordor-- the end of the journey is plainly visible and has been for ages, but it's still far away and we're just plain getting tired of it all. (As for which of us is Sam and which is Frodo, I won't express an opinion; the interested reader is left to speculate for themselves.)
To extend the metaphor, like Frodo being unable to remember the taste of food or what flowers look like, I find myself losing track of all those story ideas and pieces of art I wanted to do once the transition to full time is actually made. I expect it will come back to me once I can actually devote myself to it, but right now it's kind of a scary feeling to try to call up things that once dominated my thoughts only to find a dark void in their place.
But it's not all doom and despair-- enough of my creative spark still burns that I managed to get out a Fictionlet yesterday, and bits of filk ideas periodically float through my head. I'm pretty sure that it just boils down to stress. I just need to keep going for five more weeks.
That's as many as 35 days! And that's terrible.