So, this past week or so, the overtime at my job has finally stopped, allowing my vision to clear & see what’s around me. With my fourth piece for Virginia Neighbors upcoming & the Flannery Essay still tucked away in a notebook, I’ve decided to reorient myself to what’s meaningful by cleaning & organizing my study. I hope that by clearing my workspace, it’ll help me focus on the interior space between my goals & what I actually accomplish.
I think I’ve mentioned before that I love cleaning. A little bit too much. If I have a bad day, I find that I feel worlds better if I take five minutes and make the bed. So cleaning the study is not an unhappy task. I get reacquainted with my books, things get filed away so I’m not menaced by staggering piles of things I have to do. All in all, order is slowly restored.
Except for the growing pile of notebooks, magazines & other random printed things. Maps, loose pieces of paper, articles I’ve saved. This pile is basically the evidence of my half-assed craft. Ideas I’ve had, phrases I’ve scribbled down, research I’ve already done on pieces that have never been written. I think one tends to forget the pure amount of disparate projects we dream about undertaking until you’re confronted by the remnants of what you didn’t accomplish. Everything else lining the four walls of my room is in place, dealt with and cataloged.
Except for this pile of words at my feet, not allowing me to cross the room to the door until I take stock of what I’ve left undone & made some final decisions about what to do.
Gives a new dimension to “painting yourself in a corner.”