July 6, 2012

Oh, hey.

You're in college and for a week you're an all-star.  You complete projects, effectively study for exams; you get ahead.  You knock your business out of the park and you're on top of the world.  When you're out, you easily find yourself in the midst of conversations that fundamentally interest you and you couldn't be more involved.  Plus you're a funny person, so basically you rule the world.  And by you I mean me.

And then next week rolls around and you look at your list of to-do's and your brain seizes and you have to literally coax yourself to simply type an email.  What the hell happened?

This happens to me, my friends, my husband...  It's the most frustrating thing in the world to want so badly to be productive, to have something to say, to make something interesting out of the minutiae and then literally blow a gasket.  

Brains are no different that computers or smart phones.  You over-load them and they become lethargic, worthless, prone to stalling.  "This is your brain, this is you're brain on productivity.  Talk to your kids.  Before it's too late."  My brain is an over medium egg.

I long to be able to humorously bitch about some nuance of my daily life.  

And even that is something to mull over.  I'm way past the place where I'm lamenting over laundry or my husband's inability to be cognitively wired like my best friend.  My new "problem" is that I'm so busy I don't even have time to notice what's been chapping my ass lately.

And that really chaps my ass.  

I like to write.  When I was a teenager I used to compose poetry about love or about being an hourglass shaped peg in a toothpick world.  Now I have no time to blow smoke up my own ass.  I'm busy, professionally motivated, mother to a sassy doll-face, wife to a very handsome, fabulously wonderful man who happens to be the only one in the world (besides my brother) to be able to call me out on my bullshit without [always] pissing me off.  I do not have time anymore to tai-chi my way though my subconscious constipation.

I work full time now.  We're trying to rent out our condo so that we can move closer to work and Nunnie day-care.  I spend every second I'm that home after-work with Pish and after that I'm supposed to work on design school and then say hi to my husband and also find five minutes to look myself in the eye in the mirror and hit ground zero.  

It leaves little time for the blogger past-time.  But I miss it.  So even though I've managed to ramble for god knows how many paragraphs and words and thoughts and seconds, I hope I've said something.  

Then again, maybe I just needed to say hi.    

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