I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Thursday, May 12, 2011

No one told you when to run

So, still on tender hooks for that one job that may, or may not, be coming in. Sigh. With the added bonus that another client called me on my drive into work this morning. Sigh.

There are times the universe lets me know I should be writing. And then there is the majority of times just like this where I think the bastards are conspiring to both suck up my time and suck out my soul. I think I've mentioned before about how work/life/boll weevils get in the way. This is one of those times.

It's getting harder to not take this personally.

And it doesn't only just do this with writing. It does it with vacations, attempts to be along with myself/wife, needing to get an oil change, etc. And the more I do "time management" tricks the worse these outside interruptions get.

Sorry for the whining, but it's really getting me down. Add into the mix the gremlins screeching about "If I were really dedicated/really a writer, I would be...". I need a moment. Probably won't get it.

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