Lately I’ve been feeling like I’m getting dumber in my old age. My mind is slipping. Maybe it’s just where I’m at today. Maybe it’s hormones. Maybe I can’t think clearly of a Monday and it’s just that.
I do know that I have been feeling like I can’t get as much done as I would like to. I’m behind deadline on projects, multiple ones, and asking myself why I keep taking things on if I am not going to be able to get them done on time. Or at all. Maybe the best thing really is to treat this like a hobby and just poke at it when I’m in the mood. First, yea, have to deliver projects that involve people other than me. I can let me down, I can’t let them down.
January is going to slip quietly away without a publication. I’m breaking the streak of publishing once a month that I started in August last year. I’m simply too tired, too behind, and have too many things to do. I can’t get it done. I’m feeling stupid and clumsy and argh!
Maybe I should stick to smaller projects, like making a meal. I can do that. Cooking is short-term commitment, with immediate payoff. A book? Takes a long time, and may or may not pay off in the end. I dunno. I’m compelled to write. Just not compelled enough to write quickly or voluminously.
It’s Monday. I shall have more coffee. Update my to-do list. Plan for the week ahead. Plan for the month, and slot tax prep in there somewhere, as an annual chore that cannot be ducked. Make time to draw, with a pen, on paper, to ground myself.
Onward. Upward. If I stop, I slide backwards. Into the dumb. I dislike that feeling very much. I shall do better.