"time keeps slipping on, slipping on away"
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I can't believe I am finding time to do this again today. After staying up way too late last night goofing around on the internet reading other blogs and such, I overslept this morning. So, instead of sitting down to a nice chunk of time with my blog today, this post will most likely be composed in chunks throughout the day, whenever I get a spare minute. I'll try to be cohesive.
I feel like this is my constant struggle these days. Now that I have the baby, graduate school, work in the writing center, and a host of familial responsibilities, I find that I am literally flying from one task to another. I stay up late and wake up early, feeling as though my feet are already on the ground and I'm already running. I give myself that "little engine that could" speech when I feel my feet start to drag. I blog for clarity, and I write seriously whenever I can. I find myself sitting in bed at the end of the day feeling mentally, creatively, physically and emotionally exhausted, asking myself where the day went. The days of 2010 continue to slip through my fingers so quickly that it feels as though they were never in my hands at all. This brings me to the topic of the day.
Topic of the Day: Time
Sometimes I let the stress get to me. I waste what precious time I do have wishing for more. I get to feeling resentful of the paper deadlines that constantly taunt me and the tedium of my job and never-ending to-do list that makes up my life, and I just wish I could stay home with my baby boy all day long and write when he sleeps and have no other responsibilities.
This morning I remembered something my dad said to me during my senior year as an undergrad. I was (I only thought) totally bogged down with stress. I had multiple projects and papers due, and I was in full on perfectionist mode. I had launched into a tirade about how ridiculous it was for me to have gotten myself into this mess…why would I take eighteen hours of upper level English classes at once…who did I think I was…You all know the drill.
And my wise Daddy, instead of giving me a big long pep-talk about how awesome I was, instead of reminding me that he believed I could do anything, he gave me one simple, brilliant sentence:
“Try to remember that you actually love to do this.”
And I do. I absolutely love this crazy, stressful, student/mommy/worker/wife/writer thing I’ve got going on.
When I graduated from UCA last December, I expected to feel relief at the absence of pressure. Instead, I would wake up in the middle of the night looking for projects. I needed something to do and, more importantly, something to learn. I desperately needed papers to write and textbooks to read. That’s why I came back to school. During the interim, I spent seven dreadful months working as a waitress at a truck-stop, and as stimulating (and surprisingly lucrative) as that was, I didn’t love it. I learned that it majorly sucks to get up every day and go to a job that you hate, even if you do make a lot of money and have a lot of free time on your hands. The days slip through your fingers just as quickly, only there is no satisfaction at the end of the day. I need to wake up running. I need to shuffle from one loving task to another. I need the deadlines, the pressure, the stress. Even when it seems to be too much, I remember that I love each and every moment of my crazy, busy days.
I will power through this last month of the semester. The papers will get done, the presentations will get given, the bills will get paid. And amidst the chaos, I will grab every moment of solace I can. I will enjoy the kisses from my husband, the laughs with my writing center friends over coffee breaks, the late night blog readings, the crammed in morning writing sessions, the few minutes spent “talking” to my smiling two month old son before he drifts off to sleep, the quiet Sunday afternoons talking to my Mom on her porch swing. I will continue to wake up running everyday through this life I love, alternating between these easy moments and the challenges of my responsibilities because I know that time isn’t going to stop for me. Because I have got to suck down all the juice I can while life is ripe. Beacause this is what I love to do. Because (at the risk of sounding like a cheesy, musical-lover) there is “no day but today.”
I feel like this is my constant struggle these days. Now that I have the baby, graduate school, work in the writing center, and a host of familial responsibilities, I find that I am literally flying from one task to another. I stay up late and wake up early, feeling as though my feet are already on the ground and I'm already running. I give myself that "little engine that could" speech when I feel my feet start to drag. I blog for clarity, and I write seriously whenever I can. I find myself sitting in bed at the end of the day feeling mentally, creatively, physically and emotionally exhausted, asking myself where the day went. The days of 2010 continue to slip through my fingers so quickly that it feels as though they were never in my hands at all. This brings me to the topic of the day.
Topic of the Day: Time
Sometimes I let the stress get to me. I waste what precious time I do have wishing for more. I get to feeling resentful of the paper deadlines that constantly taunt me and the tedium of my job and never-ending to-do list that makes up my life, and I just wish I could stay home with my baby boy all day long and write when he sleeps and have no other responsibilities.
This morning I remembered something my dad said to me during my senior year as an undergrad. I was (I only thought) totally bogged down with stress. I had multiple projects and papers due, and I was in full on perfectionist mode. I had launched into a tirade about how ridiculous it was for me to have gotten myself into this mess…why would I take eighteen hours of upper level English classes at once…who did I think I was…You all know the drill.
And my wise Daddy, instead of giving me a big long pep-talk about how awesome I was, instead of reminding me that he believed I could do anything, he gave me one simple, brilliant sentence:
“Try to remember that you actually love to do this.”
And I do. I absolutely love this crazy, stressful, student/mommy/worker/wife/writer thing I’ve got going on.
When I graduated from UCA last December, I expected to feel relief at the absence of pressure. Instead, I would wake up in the middle of the night looking for projects. I needed something to do and, more importantly, something to learn. I desperately needed papers to write and textbooks to read. That’s why I came back to school. During the interim, I spent seven dreadful months working as a waitress at a truck-stop, and as stimulating (and surprisingly lucrative) as that was, I didn’t love it. I learned that it majorly sucks to get up every day and go to a job that you hate, even if you do make a lot of money and have a lot of free time on your hands. The days slip through your fingers just as quickly, only there is no satisfaction at the end of the day. I need to wake up running. I need to shuffle from one loving task to another. I need the deadlines, the pressure, the stress. Even when it seems to be too much, I remember that I love each and every moment of my crazy, busy days.
I will power through this last month of the semester. The papers will get done, the presentations will get given, the bills will get paid. And amidst the chaos, I will grab every moment of solace I can. I will enjoy the kisses from my husband, the laughs with my writing center friends over coffee breaks, the late night blog readings, the crammed in morning writing sessions, the few minutes spent “talking” to my smiling two month old son before he drifts off to sleep, the quiet Sunday afternoons talking to my Mom on her porch swing. I will continue to wake up running everyday through this life I love, alternating between these easy moments and the challenges of my responsibilities because I know that time isn’t going to stop for me. Because I have got to suck down all the juice I can while life is ripe. Beacause this is what I love to do. Because (at the risk of sounding like a cheesy, musical-lover) there is “no day but today.”
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