I like to plan my time out. You may have noticed that. I do it all the time. I think each day about what I will get done before school, what I can get done during my prep (I like to be efficient with that time…unfortunately, I often fail at efficiency). I think about if there’s anything I can get done during class and what I will do on the way home, running errands while I’m already out and about. I plan out the evening and night, telling myself I will get an hour of grading in here so I can do art there.
I do this every day. And almost every day, something comes along and blasts my plan all to hell. You’d think I would give up on the plan, but I do know that having the plan keeps me on task with projects like this, keeps me from flailing completely at school, keeps my to-do list from taking over the world (although it often feels like it already has). Time ticks and I’m holding on to the hand as it rolls around.
So yesterday was book club, and I didn’t go. I made that decision about 2 hours after girlchild woke me up for the first time, way too early, because I had stayed up to finish ironing the night before. I had too much to do. And then I offered to help the girlchild…
That she was convinced wouldn’t take very long, but she’d been at it for like 5 hours by the time I showed up (mostly spent at Home Depot buying paint, apparently). When I showed up, she had penciled in all the letters, so I started painting.
It is what it is. Hey, so these are the leftover pieces of separated Wonder Under that I never matched up to anything. I find that somewhat disconcerting.
I spent a lot of time grading papers yesterday too…and then I started cutting stuff out…
Today is turning into a giant clusterfuck, with a possible stolen car and other crap to worry about. I’m currently sitting in a college presentation, giving me one more thing I have to persuade myself not to worry about.
Meditation tonight is required. Not optional. Cutting stuff out too.
Here’s a Burning Man Timelapse video…because someday I will go there. Seriously.