The only time that I have available to write here is when I’m intentionally trying to be late for something.
But let’s be honest. It’s not like I don’t have 15 minutes a day to write here. I do. I have 15 minutes. I probably have an full half hour, heck, maybe even a full hour if you add it all up. The problem is, I function much better if I stare at the wall for an hour a day. Sure, it comes in three minute chunks. Ok, 30 second chunks. I can’t sit still for 3 straight minutes. Being hyperactive is advantageous, it keeps you slim. I burn a lot of calories a day fidgeting. It’s like smoking, only with physical activity instead of cancer. I walk up and down the stairs at least 30 times a day.
I’m tired. I could be more tired. In fact, I’m the second most tired person in my pre-family household of two. I guess in that sense, I’m the least tired person in my life, taking “my life” to encompass two people. You’re not allowed to be tired when you’re the least tired one, especially when you’re hyperactive and people expect you to be tireless.
I’m not even going to be able to be late for this thing. I try to be late and it doesn’t even work. I’m so disciplined to the clock that even when Outlook isn’t popping up reminders of those things that I should be doing but am not for weeks at a time, I still get reminders, internal to my brain. I know exactly what time I need to leave to not be late, and some inhuman pull is yanking me toward that departure entirely against my will. I just want to sit here and stare at the wall. For 3 whole minutes, or at least 30 seconds.
I don’t think I’ve been writing enough. I think writing keeps you sane (do you think?). I think writing helps you process your thoughts instead of leaving them to pool up in vast stagnant pools. You poke at a stagnant pond and you don’t even get the thoughts that you dumped in there, all you get is stink. Rotten water, just stink, nothing useful in those ponds. The problem is that when you have thoughts, rarely though they are, you are too busy to do anything with them. Sometimes you can’t spare 15 minutes, or even two minutes to scribble down your thoughts for later transcription. The sorts of thoughts that you have when you’re frantic only make sense when you’re frantic.
I need to leave in 5 minutes to be on time and I still need to change and go to the bathroom. Dear reader, I am almost late. I might be late. Please, help me be late. I swear it’s possible. Especially if I proof read. Pit one perfectionist neurosis against another.
I am an expert on not being on time. I’m never TOO late but also not unpleasantly early. I’ve mastered it by actually trying to be on time and relaxed. The combination guarantees I will NOT be on time! Really, I should market it.
I’m gonna post a link to your last entry right here:
http://chattingwiththemartins.blogspot.com/2009/10/true-story.html
I admit, I couldn’t follow where you were going, but I appreciated it once you got there!