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.
