As in especially this week.
I feel like I'm living my life
out of focus.
I begin to write
the stories that are constantly
dancing in my brain.
Just as real progress is getting made
I go to the library and then
I find myself reading, and reading, and reading
while my stories collect dust.
I begin a photography business
I am booked every weekend for months.
I play around in photoshop trying to teach myself
and I don't get very far.
I switch states and my business falls flat on it's face.
I let it stay there because what's the use?
When I was a teacher I had a minimum
of 87 things on my to-do list
-on a slow day-
And I'd get to most all of them.
Now I usually have about four.
And sometimes I don't even get to them all.
Because I'll say to myself.
I just don't feel like it.
I can do it tomorrow.
Because really, what's the difference
if the laundry gets folded today or tomorrow?
What's one more day?
I used to promise myself if I ever had free time,
what was free time anyway?
I'd do things like volunteer in children's hospitals,
and learn languages & take up hobbies, like painting.
I thought I could become "gourmet" in my cooking skills
or adopt a grandparent.
Mostly I wanted to be a mother.
I quit teaching so I could be a mother.
I also quit teaching because the stress was literally
Maybe that's why I'm not a mother yet.
Maybe I'm just not ready.
My word for the year was prepare.
I have to say that I was doing pretty good at this,
until my miscarriage.
And from there it's almost like my grip on things
spun out of my control.
Now that it's November and I'm reviewing this year
I'm seeing that I have accomplished just about nothing.
I'm really tired of seeing nothing for my efforts.
A clean house only stays clean for a day, and sometimes not even that long.
And (mostly) that's all I do.
Clean house. Do the grocery shopping. Fold laundry.
There it is. My life.
Pretty pathetic, huh.
I have GOT the get myself together somehow.