Time management and multitasking are two virtues I was not blessed to possess. I often struggle with attaining a harmonious balance between work, family, school, writing, and all those nagging little commitments generally associated with everyday life. To the frustration of my inner circle, I must take things as they come, one at a time – chronologically. Experience has taught me that if I don’t adhere to this rule of thumb, I will devolve into: a) anger-laced irrationality; or b) total despondency – or what I like to call, the “fuck it” syndrome. Couple the latter with my inclination toward introversion and it is safe to say some things aren’t afforded the attention they deserve, or would otherwise receive under less stressful circumstances.
My focus the last six months has been school. I’m almost finished and what I thought would be an easy semester, turned into an avalanche of homework that took more time than anticipated, and certainly more than appreciated. Add to the mix, my daughter’s fall band and robotics schedule, and well – something had to give. That something – this blog. And my novel. Both became victims of the aforementioned “F.I.” syndrome.
Now in the aftermath of the semester that seemed to never end, I find myself with a bit of free time on my hands. That’s not to say there aren’t new commitments and challenges eager to step in to fill the void left by my schoolwork. There are cookies to be baked, cards to be addressed, gifts to be bought, malls to be conquered, and good cheer to be spread.
Blah, blah, blah.
I have to be honest here. I’m not a big fan of Christmas. The season’s inflated commerciality and disingenuous propaganda give me heartburn, and I resent the additional obligations and expectations to varying degrees. After several hectic months, the last thing I want to do is be bogged down by holiday sludge. What I want to do is get back into the rhythm of writing. Whether it’s this blog, or my WIP, or something new – it doesn’t matter. I just want to sit in front of my computer and get lost in the glow of the written word.
My words.
So, I am faced with a bit of a dilemma. Bake cookies and address stacks of Christmas cards or write? Do what’s expected or what I want?
I say fuck it.
Today, I write.
Nobody reads Christmas cards anyway. As for all those cookies I don’t plan to bake now – I’m sure my friends and family will understand. And if they don’t – I have a long memory and will adjust my cookie recipient list accordingly.
Write on.
Of Bears and Boating 