Too often I find myself getting caught up in what I should do versus what I want to do. Mostly because I think if I did what I wanted all the time, I'd never leave the couch, watch every single episode of SVU on repeat and knit dozens of repetitive scarves. Or leave rings around the bathtub from overuse and maybe permanently prune my skin.
I've had this notion creep up on me a few times in the past years. I get this sudden thought that what if, what if I just resigned to checking in with myself at all times, and do only what I was really drawn to do, at any given moment? Like, if I get home from work and had planned on writing this post, but all I really wanted was to go to bed? I would forgo brushing my teeth, chug a glass of wine and catch up on Fifty Shades of Grey (YES, ok? I'm reading it. And you thought I had class) until I pass out.
But usually my head gets so clogged by things I have deemed important, or imperative to my self-worth, or obligatory, or any other excuse I use to tell myself I'm enjoying it when really I want to flush my paintbrush down the toilet (I would try the tub drain as I'm taking a bath, but it's already clogged. I guess that's one success, though, because I really do not feel like fishing out the wad of hair to free it. Let's not talk about it, it's grossing me out already.) that I don't even enjoy it.
(By the way, how does one manage to use the word "clogged" twice in one paragraph in two different contexts? Guess I need to take a nod from Fifty and find a thesaurus. Seriously, have you ever read that thing? Chick needs to stop talking about how "beguiling" things are and MOVE ON.)
So...right now I'm simultaneously writing this and watching The Lake House. I'm about 10 minutes from finding out how the hell these two people are going to be together, or if someone's just going to die. I'm banking on Keanu. I've never seen it, ok? And for how much everyone talks about how bad it is, I had to do my own research. I hadn't planned on sitting here soaking in the rays from the screen, but when I "checked in with myself" two hours ago, it was the only thing I felt like doing.
It's times like these that I have the hardest with. It's the breaks in my life when all I want to do is lie around all day wearing my pajamas, but instead force myself to make giant paintings -- only to find them lacking -- that I can't stand. It's like the inhale between two out-breaths. But I can't handle that nothing is coming out of me. It's times like this that are needed to restore my energy, to breathe in information in order to exhale it into something new. Like sleeping in order to wake up the next day. I need to take time away from all projects just so that I can make it to the next one. And hopefully, in a way I hadn't seen possible yet.
Oh man, that ending just sets this up way too well for me. Did I or did I not say that Keanu was going to bite it? But then he comes back? How does that work out with the brother, who JUST SAID that he died? I get so confused in time travel movies. Though Marty McFly was my first true love.
But those two crazy lovebirds would never have found each other if he didn't follow her advice and just wait. Right now, all I can do is wait -- wait for my interest in the fuzz box to wane, wait to get bored with knitting, wait until I feel the desire to get out my own head and house. Because if I try and force it before I really want it, nobody will enjoy it. Least of all myself.
Right now I'm resigning to do exactly what I want, when I want. Minus that nagging responsibility called work, of course...and you know, when I can remember to stop being so anal. Oh yeah and within legal limits. Who's with me!