It’s been two very productive days. About 8-9 hours of arting and self promo. Today, though, today feels different.

Today I did dishes, put ’em away. Washed laundry, folded laundry, put laundry away. Broke down boxes, put them into the recycle bin. Accumulated this week’s trash, put it out on the curb. Cleaned the everloving fuck out of the kitchen stove, inside and out. Came here to write a little soliliquy. And still am.

All in the name of procrastination.

Art scares me, ladies and gents. Absolutely terrifies. I’ve spent the bulk of my life trying to be good enough, paying dues, sacrificing time and needs in the hope that such investments will pay dividends. Put myself through the nihilistic-existentialism-wringer on numerous occasions. Each excruciating. And do you think I am anywhere near being better than I used to be? I’m afraid not. At least, in my mind.

Maybe that is the twisty path of life we all take. We choose our goals and struggle in one way or another to get them goals done. We all get to agonize over choices and mourn defeats. The realistic version of success earned through multitudes of failures is not commonly recognized or celebrated. Even then, it’s only those who have been through the fires themselves that can recognize and appreciate the success. And that is likely a small group.

Mmkay, feet back on the ground.

I’m misery musing. Which is another form of procrastination.

Art, scary. Book compiled of multiple artworks, poems, and presented in a decent way. OMG, so so scary! Got it! Time to move on.

Feet planted firmly on the ground again and several meditative breathes later. This is when we practice better self care so that the unintentional self care in the form of procrastination doesn’t hijack our life. Practice orienting perspectives, goals, reasons, compromises, and expectations so that it’s not all or nothing.

Life is not so bad. I have plenty of blessings to count. Which brings us back to the self care business. Time to charge some batteries with a vacation or a fling or something to cut loose. So that in coming back to the grind, we are not ground down by it. That we can see the larger picture and work diligently towards it without being enslaved by it.