Improving My Station

‘A picture of something you wish you were better at’ is the photo that the challenge requests today. Oh man, they have no clue what they’re asking. You do not pose this question to a self diagnosed bipolar perfectionist with OCD. You just don’t. Not unless you want a really long drawn out diatribe about all the many things they need to improve.

Wishing I was better at just about everything hasn’t been going on forever, probably just the past 4 handfuls of time, but that doesn’t make it any less ingrained now. So I’m going to try my best to reign it in to just a small list. In fact, just one thing in particular -- even though I could say letting go, dealing with stress, cleaning my house, keeping fresh art in my online shop, editing my last manuscript, coming up with a title for my last manuscript, saving money, quitting smoking (again), eating healthier, working out more, etc -- I’m simply going to make them all mesh into one.

The one thing I really, truly wish I was better at (as long as I’m being honest here) is time management.

I’ll write up a blog post and suddenly it’s close to 9:30, well, if I got up on time of course. By the time I’m done reading email and responding to all that stuff I’ve been fortunate enough to be invited to, asked about, etc I see the clock creeping up on 10:30. Next it’s off to organize the day for school work and leave comments in the discussion forum so I can get my full credit; by then we’re looking at lunchtime. If I’m smart I stop myself and go eat. Most days I’m not so smart.

So then I start reading or writing depending on the day and assignment. Eventually my body tells me it will pass out if I don’t put some nutrition in it because as awesome as words are, they don’t really satisfy. This means I’m way too hungry to make anything super healthy most days so I toast up an English muffin with peanut butter and cheese because it only takes 10 minutes and is packed with protein for my evening workout burn.

I sit and eat in about 7 minutes and get back to the order of school. By the time I wrap up I realize I still haven’t showered and I hop in at about 5:00. Out with hair dried by 5:30 and I’m ready to start dinner as I text Matt to say 1) No, I’m not in the mood to work out tonight so he’s solo if he wants to go and 2) I’m pretty hungry so what would he like me to order out for him.

Getting the return text I head out front to have a cigarette, because now that the sun is setting the clouds have finally broken, so I “enjoy” the 2.36 minutes of sunshine while the wind whips at me at 35mph. Yes as you could probably surmise those are air quotes.

So its time to do stuff around here like vacuum, dust, move stuff out of the middle of the floor, put dishes into/run the dishwasher and spray the air because a potential renter is coming to see the place and we want to fool them into thinking that not only is it huge but it is the best apartment on the flipping planet and they must rent it. By the time I’m done with all that Matt has made it home, my stomach is chewing itself out of my body and we’re checking to see if we’re going cash or credit on our take out.

My brain has turned to mush as I longingly glance at all the half started paintings, projects, faux samples and printed stories to edit that sit patiently waiting for me in a pile in the office.

Yeah get in line, that stack of mail and filing being ignored has been around a lot longer than you have.

I wrap up posting/reposting a bunch of stuff on craigslist so we can get rid of stuff before the move and shut down my laptop.

I eat dinner and have a beer and flick on some mindless television or scream at a hockey game because my brain actually feels like its swimming with all the stuff I didn’t do yet, all the stuff I did get done in order to ensure my 4.0 and all the stuff I need to do tomorrow (READ: will write in my day planner and put little x’s beside the following morning [as usual] when I don’t actually get them done because I’m too busy doing other stuff like 25 loads of laundry, researching what stuff is listed for online so I can price mine accordingly, taking pictures of all the crap we have to sell, or trying to figure out how to comment on someone’s work when they didn’t actually answer the questions in the assignment).

I need a fucking Assistant. A life assistant. That’s what I’m going to wish for here.

The original of this photo was found here on Flickr because I frankly just didn’t have the time to sit and wait for the clock to change to take one myself.

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Catch up on anything you missed  30 Photos, 30 Days
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