Lists (52/90)

It's 11:30 p.m and I'm sitting in the Cardinal Communications office on campus. I told myself I'd be home by now and in bed by midnight so that I could be rested and recharged come Monday morning.

But, I made a to-do list.

 Actually, I made the same list twice. I threw the first one out because my handwriting was ridiculously sloppy and I knew I'd be annoyed when I looked at it everyday. And now I'm obsessing, playing this game to see how much I can get checked off. I'm curious if I can push my body and mind through the "For Monday" section all the way to the "For Wednesday" section before I surrender to sleep.

 On the bottom of each day's section written in blue is "blog post." Which I went back and added hesitantly after I'd already made the list and started in on the work. Because for me, it just feels wrong putting that on a list. Mixing the sweetness of the thing that I love with the tartness of all the other things that are just necessary.

And then I began to wonder, with worry and anxiety swirling in my belly, if this it what it will be like. Putting love on the bottom of the list, saved as a reward for the end of a day spent doing what will get me from Point A to Point B.

If I'll always feel betrayed by my body as I get overwhelmingly sleepy, just when I've hit my stride and the writing begins to flow.

Of course, I could always put love, this love in particular, on the top of the list. And I have. At the beginning of this challenge when I was trying to find out what works best for me, by way of copying the style and schedule of others, I got up and spent time writing before I set my mind on anything else. What happened, over and over again, is that I'd lose track of time, and spend hours doing what I'd alloted only 30 minutes to an hour for.

My mind would get stuck on the writing. I'd write and re-write and start over. I wouldn't have anything to show for my day, except for the writing, which often times wasn't even worth showing. But that was, and is, okay with me.

It's 12:05 now, and the anxiety in my belly is pushing me to wrap up and make the 40 minute drive home, where I have to get on with the list that will push me through the necessities of tomorrow.