I've taken to writing a certain kind of list lately.
This is not a surprise; I am a list person. But this sort of list goes beyond what needs to be done during the day. It is not a grocery list or a house cleaning list.
The kind of list I've been writing out is a kind of life list. And not a list of things I'd like to do at some point in my life (...write a novel, go back to Paris. I find sometimes I am so cliché. But if you know my history, I say both of those are valid. Along with Rome.) but a list of all the things I want &/or need to be doing right now. Books I am or ought to be reading, ideas to think about, blogs to organize and post on, social media to participate in (rather ironic, in it's way: I am more or less non-social), activities to introduce for our family, a laundry schedule.
I suppose if I got it all written down it could really seem overwhelming. I don't ever get it all written down. But I feel like if I could just get everything in it's place I could get it all done.
I know that is one of life's myths.
But I am not after Whammy-Presto Super Change! While occasionally prone to desire such rapid progression I am learning to be content with the step-by-step process of getting things done. Letting life sort it's self out. Saying my prayers and then doing what I can do as it comes.
Ah, this list. Started and started again. I don't despair over it. Rather I am languishing in the idea that I can't finish a complete thought.
I have this cold that I can't quite shake and it's driving me mad. It sits in my sinuses and won't leave; not for love or for money or for time. It keeps me feeling clouded and unfocused. And until it deigns to go, that list I have partially written and left about on scattered papers and various notebooks will just have to sit. I haven't the wherewithal (lovely word) to pull the words from the lines and put them into action.
And so they will stay, nouns without verbs, until I can take enough Vitamin C to kick this sucker out.
This is not a surprise; I am a list person. But this sort of list goes beyond what needs to be done during the day. It is not a grocery list or a house cleaning list.
The kind of list I've been writing out is a kind of life list. And not a list of things I'd like to do at some point in my life (...write a novel, go back to Paris. I find sometimes I am so cliché. But if you know my history, I say both of those are valid. Along with Rome.) but a list of all the things I want &/or need to be doing right now. Books I am or ought to be reading, ideas to think about, blogs to organize and post on, social media to participate in (rather ironic, in it's way: I am more or less non-social), activities to introduce for our family, a laundry schedule.
I suppose if I got it all written down it could really seem overwhelming. I don't ever get it all written down. But I feel like if I could just get everything in it's place I could get it all done.
I know that is one of life's myths.
But I am not after Whammy-Presto Super Change! While occasionally prone to desire such rapid progression I am learning to be content with the step-by-step process of getting things done. Letting life sort it's self out. Saying my prayers and then doing what I can do as it comes.
Ah, this list. Started and started again. I don't despair over it. Rather I am languishing in the idea that I can't finish a complete thought.
I have this cold that I can't quite shake and it's driving me mad. It sits in my sinuses and won't leave; not for love or for money or for time. It keeps me feeling clouded and unfocused. And until it deigns to go, that list I have partially written and left about on scattered papers and various notebooks will just have to sit. I haven't the wherewithal (lovely word) to pull the words from the lines and put them into action.
And so they will stay, nouns without verbs, until I can take enough Vitamin C to kick this sucker out.
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