I have so much to do. I am struggling to keep my life organized and structured. I am trying to think about Sebastian's kindergarten registration, signing up to be on The Main Street Academy School Board, putting up bunk beds, painting the bedroom walls, preparing for a hospital competition, putting together presentations to change the design culture of HKS Atlanta, participating in the Digital Innovation Group and daydreaming about changing my career while ignoring my bills and finances, my architectural registration examinations and my children's education.
Sometimes I wonder if all this work and effort is actually holding me back. It is as if I bearing the weight of the sea on my shoulders. As if the sea were not enough, I am taking in lakes and streams. At which point will I wash away?
Is this why I am floundering in life? Is this why I do not feel as if my knowledge is very deep? Is this why I have made little or no progress with my career. I have not penned a single story. Hell, I haven't read a single piece of literature since 12 grade. (Apologies for not including David Sedaris in the list of literature.) I used to read voraciously. I used to read and my life would change. Island of the Blue Dolphins. David and Jonathon. I would sit down outside under a tree and read a book. Now? I read comic books, but I read them much differently than when I read them in my youth. In my earlier days, I read the passages slowly. I remember walking up the hill from Gina's apartment in Cincinnati to the CVS and picking up the lastest X-Factor or Generation X. I read them so slowly because I knew I would perhaps not read another one in months to come. I had no money, but my sisters always would give me a few dollars to buy comics. I still have them.
What has happened to my love for words? I still love to write, but I no longer have an enraptured audience. I felt it in my bones that I would write a novel. Now I am settling for blogging. I know there are enough hours in the day and night. But why must I always run short?