I often joke that my biggest vices are Buffalo wings, Netflix, and my sofa, but I think it’s time I was honest with myself. What I’m really, truly hooked on is staying busy. And I don’t mean the regular amount of busy that we all are: running a household, going to work, living life. I mean the kind of busy where you always feel like you’re drowning and there’s an anchor tied to your ankle and you’re in the middle of open water and you’re not a strong swimmer to begin with. That kind of busy.
Perhaps you suffer from this affliction, too; does any of this sound familiar?
>Once you finish a task, you add three more to your list.
>In the face of lots to do, you take a nap instead, so now there’s a backlog.
>In order to avoid doing the one thing you really need to do, you invent 40 other tasks that you should do first.
>You buy or download things to help you get organized, and then let said things gather dust under your couch.
>You hide behind your other vices (Buffalo wings, Netflix, and a good sofa).
This is where I am. I promised to pull back this year in order to write my novel. I said “Only five events and I’ll put out a call for the next anthology and that’s it.”
Next thing you know I’m curating for TWO anthologies; I’m signing up for conferences and festivals; I’m taking on new editorial clients; I’m launching new initiatives. And this can be all leading up to an amazing 2018, for sure, but I’m quite certain that along the way I’m developing a bleeding ulcer, and I’m now 45lbs overweight from stress-eating, so what’s really good, Raquel?
I’m losing sight of what I started out wanting to do: write dope shit, host dope events, meet dope artists. My plan (HA! Plans… I crack myself up) is to use August as a “recharging” month.
I want to write more.
I want to read more.
I want to be left alone more.
I want to go to the beach more.
I want people to not need me so much, more.
I want the freedom to not need to be busy, anymore.
What are your hopes for this month?