So today was supposed to be a light day. I was the only person down my hall at work. Since for my clients it was a 4 day weekend, they thought it would be best to email me to death. I fought back, the battle was epic and in the end dear friend, your eyes glaze over my words and you know I have remained victorious.
So I finished The Paris Review 226, 227 is down a few slots on my que. I’m going to tackle some Polish poetry because fuck it right, I got 17 more books to read this year.
I just inquired about being on a podcasting panel in May down in Richmond for a comicon. I’m also contemplating a speaking engagement in Sept for a podcast conference in Atlantic City. Plus doing conversations for the podcast, trying to find time to paint, write, make music.
I drive myself to exhaustion because I fear if I let this muse alone she will fly away and never return.
Not to mention raising twins, working full time, commuting 2 hours a day and looking at changing jobs for a longer commute but more pay. I’m really contemplating exhaustion.
Why do we strive for it in this society, working out, working a job, working on relationships. Why do we whip ourselves into a froth about all these things, or is it just me and my spit and puss encrusted glasses that views the world like this. I only know full speed, I can’t relax because the morning gets closer and closer and I wont be able to sleep soon because as soon as my head hits the pillow the alarm goes off or the kids start screaming.
I’ll find a balance, I’ll land on my feet … until I dont.