Sunday, November 05, 2006
October 26, 2006
There are so many other things I should be doing right now. I should be folding that pile of laundry that has taken over the couch. I should be filing this sloppy stack of papers sitting in front of me on my desk, threatening to topple at any moment. My toilet has a gross brown ring around the inside of the bowl that has been growing over the past week, and I never let it get like that, but I don’t want to be scrubbing my toilet bowl. Not right now. Right now, I have a quiet moment all to myself, and I want to keep it all for myself. And, why is it that I find myself sitting her internally making excuses and defending myself? No one is breathing down my neck, nagging me to hurry up and get these things done. Nobody cares as much as I do. Nobody cares… but let’s not turn that into a pity party, please, let’s not go there today.
So, here I am, sitting here enjoying my moment, trying so hard not to think about those things I should be getting done. Damn those things! Why can’t I be like those creative types that let the mold grow on the dirty dishes in the sink, that rarely shower or change their clothes? I want to be so completely immersed in my creative process, so captivated by the thoughts swirling around my brain and tumbling out of my head that I don’t care about anything else. I want to sit here and type words, until my hair is hanging in greasy tangles from raking my hands through it and my eyes are so red rimmed and tired that I have to keep rubbing them to keep the letters from blurring in front of me. And still, I won’t be able to stop, I will be like a madwoman, with words pouring forth from my fingers, taking on a life all their own. Sometimes, I want to be this person, so bad…
But, I am not. I can’t help my eyes from flitting to bottom of the screen to check the time. I have, maybe, another hour before my daughter wakes up from her nap, and I really should use this time to get things done. Practical things that need to get done so that we can function. I never thought I would become this person. Never in all my schoolgirl daydreams did I think I would be this normal, this average, this ordinary. Why is this so hard for me to accept? I ask myself a few times a week, if this is who I am and this is what I have, can I be content?
So, here I am, sitting here enjoying my moment, trying so hard not to think about those things I should be getting done. Damn those things! Why can’t I be like those creative types that let the mold grow on the dirty dishes in the sink, that rarely shower or change their clothes? I want to be so completely immersed in my creative process, so captivated by the thoughts swirling around my brain and tumbling out of my head that I don’t care about anything else. I want to sit here and type words, until my hair is hanging in greasy tangles from raking my hands through it and my eyes are so red rimmed and tired that I have to keep rubbing them to keep the letters from blurring in front of me. And still, I won’t be able to stop, I will be like a madwoman, with words pouring forth from my fingers, taking on a life all their own. Sometimes, I want to be this person, so bad…
But, I am not. I can’t help my eyes from flitting to bottom of the screen to check the time. I have, maybe, another hour before my daughter wakes up from her nap, and I really should use this time to get things done. Practical things that need to get done so that we can function. I never thought I would become this person. Never in all my schoolgirl daydreams did I think I would be this normal, this average, this ordinary. Why is this so hard for me to accept? I ask myself a few times a week, if this is who I am and this is what I have, can I be content?
