Being self-motivated isn’t one of my strengths. One of my strengths is to not climb back into bed after feeding the cats. Sadly, I don’t get paid for that. Nor do I get an annual bonus for all the things I didn’t say. I realize those are petty peeves, but my pet peeves are cats, so I think that gives you some idea of where I’m coming from.
The world is on fire and I almost wish it would explode already. A good clean blast right out of a Michael Bay film. Like when a little kid’s trike falls over and he just has time to run away from the crash before the fireball knocks him off his feet.
That non sequitur aside, the problem I’m having is that I have many things I need to do, many things I want to do, and many things other people want me to do, all the while living in a very small space with a four cats, a husband (evenings and weekends – MTV Networks and I share custody), my son (a recent college graduate at loose ends), and four damn cats. So I have some trouble focusing. But I’m trying and that’s the important thing. I was going to say something else, but my son keeps talking to me and derailed my train of thought which burst into flames.
I think it was something about trying to be productive, but I really need a nap.
While following a meandering path through Twitter, I was perusing the profile page of author and M.D.F.R. (Master of Distraction From Reality) Terry Pratchett where I came across a teeny bit of self-promotion from one Ray Friesen.
I enjoy checking out the work of artists who have skills that outskill mine and in the process of cypersnooping, I discovered that Mr Friesen is another demented writer of children’s books (albeit “weirdo children”).
I considered pledging some cash, but then I remembered I don’t have any. Hopefully Mr Friesen’s dream will come true in spite of me.
I understand the concept of a Things To Do Before I Die list, but why call it a Bucket List? Do people think of a wish, write it on a scrap of paper and then drop it in a bucket for safe keeping? Buckets are for water and for cleaning and for slop, not for storing one’s keenest hopes and dreams.
So why not refer to it as one’s Life List or Dream Dossier?
Oh. I get it. It’s the list of things one would like to do before one “kicks the bucket”… Which makes me wonder: Was it so common for people to die while milking cows, therefore kicking over the bucket, that it became an idiom?
We live in a strange and inexplicable world.
I don’t suffer from ADD – a trending affliction that could easily explain my inability to focus on certain tasks and an unfortunate tendency to bore myself into an unproductive stupor – but my particular form of self-repression is an offshoot of OCD called EDD (Esteem Deficit Disorder). Sufferers of EDD, once insensitively labeled “shrinking violets”, are burdened with symptoms which include performance anxiety (of every kind), hypersensitivity toward criticism (external or internal), and an overall lack of motivation, especially on cloudy days. Contrary to current non-existent scientific studies, EDD does not respond well to medication nor positive attention.
As a creative person who enjoys writing, as well as variety of arts and crafts, I sometimes have the childish urge to say to no one in particular, “Look what I’ve done!” Unfortunately, attention (even the positive variety), rather than encouraging me to further endeavors, causes my EDD to flare up and my natural coping mechanism (playing dead) kicks in. It’s a vicious cycle of “Look at me!” and “Stop staring at me!”
I know why I’m the way I am, but that’s of little help toward not being the way I am and becoming the way I want to be. So today I’ve been writing, tossing aside the expectations of others, disregarding my fear of failure and/or success, and the malaise of winter. Today felt like spring and I felt like being creative. Well done! (If I do say so myself…)