Suffering slightly from too many projects at the moment. Simultaneously trying to manage:
- novel (woeful progress)
birthday planning (some progress)
songwriting (woeful progress – although I know how I’m going to start writing the next one)
weekend planning (woeful progress)
health programme (some progress)
rejuvenation of music collection (some progress)
secret project (some limited progress)
blogging here (some trivial posts)
house-hunting x2 (no progress)
spontaneous, 24×7 punning (limited progress)
fantasy football (teams doing badly)
reading (stack of books piled high, unread)
global domination (woeful progress)
Durn. I need a holiday from myself. Oh oh yes – forgot the main one:
- job (busy)
poor budge. a long list of things undone. still, making a list is a kind of achievement.
I love ‘to-do’ lists. I particularly love the satisfying feeling you get upon writing one, which usually lasts a good while and ensures you’re in no rush to actually do anything. I find that the contented feeling often lasts until I write another one, though in fact the cause and effect are actually the other way around. The satisfaction having worn off, I realise there’s lots to do and therefore write a to-do list. Life is perfect!
Ah Wu-Tang, that’s what I like about you. A circular perspective on life.
In fact, I think the flaw in my plan is in setting the goals too low. Buy a house? Pshaw, I tell you. Set real objectives – take over the world (I’ve got that on my to-do list). Knock the moon out of orbit with a ray gun like a giant billiard ball. Date Winona Ryder.
So many things that might be regarded as worthy objectives. If I have worthy objectives on my to do list, I am therefore worthy.
Circular logic. First refuge of the, well, me. And not so much a refuge as a happy place. And not so much a happy place as a fallout shelter. And not so much a fallout shelter as a little umbrella, like the kind you get in tropical drinks…