When you are young time is infinite. As it should be. Who wants to experience the existential nature of mortality with all that energy?
No plan survives first contact with the enemy, and as is becoming clear, time is my enemy. The foe to surpass all other foes in my life; financial (doing okay), health (still kicking, Ornish is helping), family (yip!), friends (ya win some you lose some. Some hurt more than others.), Time (you little f’cker!)
Perhaps it’s a consequence of doing too much at once? Too many plates spinning atop poles balanced à la “Cat in the Hat” style?
Regardless, something has to change and that change is to the plan. But not so much change as to negate the intentions of what I’m trying to accomplish. Just a tweak; a minor nudge here, a pinch there.
When defining the goal for Weekly/Monthly Reading, I’ve now lumped them into a huge pile. Just a huge dog-pile of reading stacked willy-nilly and askew without regard for decorum or decency.
They are no longer separate entities, but rather a large collection of options: read a crafting article, read a short story, read a novel, read a crafting book, for one hour a day. That’s the finite time I have and it is achievable. Mostly. I’ll track them separately, but their time is now cumulative toward the 1 hour goal. As you’ll see in week 3, in my monthly wrap-up post even that is difficult. Week three also prompted this reality adjustment. Am I hungry enough? Have I set proper boundaries for self improvement? Do those even matter now?
I still plan (there’s that word again) on sticking to my booklist. There are a lot of good selections and I’m enjoying the reading I’m doing too much to stop, if at a glacial pace.
So here we are. A minor adjustment to accommodate time. That insufferable bastard who cares not for you, or me, or anything. It’s like a North-Going Zak. The very thought of stepping aside is abhorrent. Not even thinkable. Physically impossible despite what physics may say.
Writing is going well. Oddly enough, I’ve found more time to write this month than read. I think it’s because of the hack I’ve developed where I “rob Peter to pay Paul” only Peter isn’t aware. In these situations is Peter ever aware? Are we all Peter?
But the project I’m working on is going well and when I can’t write on the computer, I have my “little black book with my poems in”. That’s useful for the couch and still being able to guard the baby from actively trying to kill herself. Where is the baby? “Oh, she walked down the hall to her room.” She’s walking now! Oh snap. TIME! *sneers upward yelling into the tricorder*
Oh, real quick before I go, my stories are now available through the Public Library System Libby or use this pre-populated Searched Link to go directly to them. If you don’t have the stories available where you are please request they get them for your library. They are free to public libraries so there really shouldn’t be a barrier to get them. And if you like the stories, please write a review on Smashwords, Amazon, or on my site. I’ll build you an account if you haven’t purchased through MalcolmSterling.com and would like to leave a review (good or constructive critique’ish).