How are you this evening/morning/afternoon (pick whichever applies to your geographic location)? I’m fine, problem is I can’t sleep, and I’m done writing for the day, and I’m avoiding my other work because
I HAVE A TENDENCY TO PROCRASTINATE!
Oh my, how do I ever get anything done?
Okay, I’m selling myself short here, I can usually knuckle down and finish things. For some reason, however, when I get stories going in my head I find it harder to do. Part of this is because parts of my brain are preoccupied with stories.
In fact, while I’m writing this a lonely robot sings to me softly from one room; a disembodied old man is fantastically discovering his long-lost love in another; and, behind door number three, a Utopian society is finding itself in a wee bit of trouble.
Add to this that I am also redesigning my blog (largely in my head, and slowly in real life), WTOE is still (blissfully, though a tad neglected) underway, my cell phone company eats up my time by being rather stupid, I’m a total neat-freak that busts out the cleaning supplies at the slightest hint of dirt, I love to read and am trying to catch up on neglected blogs (and books), job hunting, business building, and you get a lot of interesting days–and sleepless nights!
Oh yeah, I also need to exercise more (stupid cheese, which reminds me, I’m making fondue tomorrow! Mmmmmmmm, cheeeeeeeeese).
Oh life, you are a balancing act. No, scratch that. Oh life, you are a juggling act. Wait, that’s not quite right either: oh life, you are a juggling act while riding a unicycle across a tightrope over time-infested waters.
Suppose the only thing to do is keep on pedaling, pondering, writing, and–most importantly–laughing.
That’s the trick to not becoming overwhelmed. Accept imperfections and laugh–especially at yourself (you silly thing, you)!
The one time you shouldn’t laugh, or watch Arrested Development, is when you are slicing potatoes in your mandolin. Lost a good chunk of my thumb today, and had a hilarious freakout moment in the bathroom, waving my bloody thumb all over the place–making a mess, *shudder, of my bathroom–and repeating to myself “your okay, your okay, your okay” while searching wildly for the band aids. Lesson: friends don’t let friends use mandolins while under the influence of comedy.
Also, I agree with Memoirs of an Unremarkable Man, in his post “A Man with a Plan.” Parents rock, and so many people do all of these things, and more, with kids. Tell me, where are you hiding your time machine? That’s a fancy way of saying I respect you, btw.
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