I took a vacation day Friday. That's the first vacation day I've taken in 2015, so of course I ended up on the couch, hacking, coughing, sneezing, aching, and sweating a fever. This has all made me less than generous with the rest of humanity because you know some person out there was a carrier for this pestilence. You can't trust anybody.
I want to write an uplifting post, but it's hard to do when I'm feeling pitiful. I started writing of a morbid bluegill incident. Hardly uplifting. Try again. Sleeping with my sister at Grandma's house? Sis punched me for straying to her side of the bed. There's the amusing side story of Sis listening outside Grandma and Grandpa's bedroom doing a play-by-play of them rastling in there, but I didn't understand the first thing about it. I was just glad that they still played at their age, and innocent voyeurism isn't really a whole post.
I talked with another friend who is enthused about a book she's been reading about organizing time for creativity. That's exactly her kind of book, but I doubt it's something I'd ever read. I think if you want to have time to create, you have to set it as a priority. That's it. Laundry, children, whatever has to get put to the back of the line for a while.
I talked about jobs I've had and how working makes idealism and perfectionism into luxuries. There's deadlines to meet. Just do what you can in the time that you have. Get paid. Move onto the next project. Sooner or later you'll do stuff that makes you proud and all that experience starts making all of your efforts better.
I guess I've been thinking about relationships the same way lately. Too often the relationships that get the most attention are the troublesome ones, and that means there's no time for more fulfilling relationships. We prevent ourselves from learning from good relationships if we're stuck in bad ones. Priorities need re-evaluated.
There will never be enough time to do everything, and to do everything well. What matters most? Who matters most?
When I was a kid I felt bad when my shovel in the garden cut a worm in half. Sis told me that just made 2 worms, each complete in their wormness. I decided to make more worms and purposely cut them in half with no idea that I'd launched a worm genocide.
How many beliefs have we been taught that simply aren't true? How do those fallacies effect our creativity or our relationships?
Part of my brooding this week is because Danny is fighting cancer. He developed a lung infection and is dire condition since the doctors wiped out his resistance with the latest chemotherapy. He's one of the nicest people you could ever meet and is only 26 years old. Prayers and good wishes appreciated.