slow and painful deaths
The semester is still going, my friends. It just won't die. But really, it's my fault for refusing to kill it in one fell swoop (note: all I have left are my research hours (all 10 of them), but they are taking forever and a day to complete (since that is how long 10+ hours of editing academic papers feels. It's a fact)).
I have the problem that if I am not crazy busy that I do not get anything done. I mean, sure I do the dishes, brush (and floss!) my teeth and get out of bed in the mid-morning, but I struggle. I mean, yes, my life has purpose. But without a raging fire beneath my feet it doesn't feel like Purpose with a capital "P."
The irony, of course, is that I hate crazy busyness and dream about when it will all go away and I can read and write books for days on end. But when I'm not crazy busy, I feel like a lost joey that misses snuggling in the furry safeness of his mama's pouch. Sigh. I just don't get it.
Anyways. That's all. Someday I will figure out how to do the things like a boss (no matter how awful my to-do list is or isn't).
I have the problem that if I am not crazy busy that I do not get anything done. I mean, sure I do the dishes, brush (and floss!) my teeth and get out of bed in the mid-morning, but I struggle. I mean, yes, my life has purpose. But without a raging fire beneath my feet it doesn't feel like Purpose with a capital "P."
The irony, of course, is that I hate crazy busyness and dream about when it will all go away and I can read and write books for days on end. But when I'm not crazy busy, I feel like a lost joey that misses snuggling in the furry safeness of his mama's pouch. Sigh. I just don't get it.
Anyways. That's all. Someday I will figure out how to do the things like a boss (no matter how awful my to-do list is or isn't).
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