Sigh.
It occurred to me the other day that I am a constant source of self disappointment. I make all of these grandiose plans in my head (usually while I am running. Or at work. Or rather, when I am supposed to be at work but am secretly making plans to not HAVE to work) and nothing pans out. I have come to realize that while I think I am a great multi-tasker, I am really nothing more than a mediocre doer. I get by, and often, just by the skin of my teeth.
Sadly I approach most days like triage...attending to the most critical of things and everything else will just have to spend a few days loitering around in an increasingly crowded waiting room. The most critical items: Kids are fed, bathed, dressed, read to and otherwise shown that they are loved? Check. Work is done? Kindasorta, check. Training run completed? Check.
The things that are stuck in the Waiting Room of Eternity? Paintings started? Negative. House cleaned, floors mopped? Double negative. More then 6 hours of sleep in one night? Negative. Finishing my story to submit to a publisher? uh, negative. Figuring out how to redesign this blog page so it doesn't look like a non-designer did it? Not even close.
Again, le sigh.
I guess I should try to look at the glass half full as opposed to half empty. Take solace in the fact that while I am not succeeding, at least I am not totally failing everything. Mostly. Maybe good enough really is good enough?
Nah. I don't believe it either.
2 comments:
This is my life. The waiting room, I know it well. And all that inspiration, all those ideas that flood into my beleagured brain when I'm exercising, or having some sort of physical fun, usually away from my kids, they get all muddled and lose their lustre once I'm back in the confines of my domestic life. Why?
I blame it on the endorphins. Or the fact that at that moment my mind is free and clear to roam and explore all possibilities (verses being taxed with having to pry a sticky waffle off the wall, referee a squabble, meet a work deadline, etc.)
I have some truly great ideas during my long runs. I can compose a painting or a story over the course of 3 hour run and then think nothing more about it when I set foot in the door. Maybe the act of *imagining* doing something satisfies the need of actually ever doing it? Or maybe it is safer? As in, if I think about doing something enough that I feel like I actually did it then I am not really a failure and I have risked nothing?
Either that or we're just too tired. :-)
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