Today has been a blah kind of day. Really blah. Here is a grim list of my accomplishments so far (in order):
1. Woke up.
2. Worked on the computer.
3. Tried to go back to sleep.
4. Ate lunch.
5. Tried to go back to sleep again.
6. Was interrupted by countless things.
7. Worked on the computer.
8. Played with my niece.
9. Typed some emails.
10. Went back to sleep.
11. Woke up.
12. Worked on the computer.
13. Read another chapter of Decision Points.
14. Ate dinner.
15. Watched about 15 minutes of television.
16. Checked emails, played around on Facebook and surfed the web.
17. Now I’m typing this blog.
Soon, I will take my book to the bathroom, where I plan to submerge myself both back into another chapter and a tub full of scalding hot water.
I hate idle days. I’m not knocking the pleasure of having time to yourself, but when you have an active imagination (like I do) and overanalyze things (like I do), I find that I feel useless, inferior and unproductive. What makes me feel even worse is that my writer’s block has been defeated, and now I’m at a standstill as to which direction the story in my book will go. Essentially, I can write now, but I have to hold off. Which leads me to begin a new book (dare I say “possible series”?). And leaves me feeling like the one I’m currently writing is being neglected through procrastination – an art I’ve mastered on many occasions.
On top of all of that, I still have some major decisions to make, which I am avoiding. Mostly because I haven’t made up my mind yet. (See? Procrastinating again.)
Monday is supposed to be the first day of the workweek. If today is any indication of setting the pace for the remainder of my week, then I’m screwed. I’m in a funk today and just can’t seem to get out of it. And nothing - anywhere, any time or any place - on the planet, can slow down the week’s progression more than if you’re anticipating something. It’s like trying to focus on a mirage. I see it from a distance, and as I approach it, I realize I wasn’t nearly as close as I originally thought. Then I look up and see it again, and go a little further to reach it. And the cycle continues.
At the moment, the mirage is Tuesday. Let’s hope I can get to it easily, and that it will lead to Wednesday (and so on).
I think maybe we should revisit the notion of having eight days in a week. The eighth day would be reserved for whatever the imagination could produce…
Monday – the first day of the workweek, and the day we are most likely to have a heart attack (fact)
Tuesday – actually begin the workweek, and get on our knees to thank God that it’s no longer Monday
Wednesday – depression begins to wane as there are only two days left in the workweek
Thursday – aka Friday Eve, brain starts to perk up, producing hope and endorphins
Friday – pretend to work, and clock watch the entire day until 5pm
Funday – **insert whatever blows your hair back**
Saturday – need I say more?
Sunday – give thanks, rest, and prepare for another week
So, Dear Monday, I’m closing you down now. I know I’ll see you again in just six short days. You ever-reliable @#$%!