Tuesday, October 11, 2005

No Excuses

There comes a point in everyone's life when they stop making excuses and decide to make things happen. That hit me at 12:44 am last Tuesday as a shirtless, fever-ridden Sophie lay against me in a hospital bed, sucking up medicated air like a stoner at a frat party. As she dozed into peaceful sleep, I said a silent prayer that everything would be okay. I knew it would be, but one's thoughts start to go to crazy places at the wee hours of the morning. Granted, my thoughts go to weird places at 12PM after a tuna sandwich starts to settle, but you get the point. It hit me loud and clear that there's never going to be a perfect time to find my niche - whatever that niche might be. James will always have some last minute business trip that will force me to tend to the kids. Nick and Sophie will always get some virus from licking one too many foam stairs at the Northridge play area. Some family member will inevitably get ill and need a helping hand. A friend will have a baby. A friend could move across the country. One unsuspecting morning I could wake to find a 3 legged kitten mewing in a basket at my front door. (And then I'd track down Slim and Cecelia and make them take their latest orphaned creature back again -damn bleeding heart cat people!) Whatever the circumstance, there is no point banking my big break on when things settle down, because something's always lurking in the corner to kick my ass, good bad or indifferent.

With this new found enlightenment, I sat down at my computer today, while the kids were sleeping, and made a list of all the things I am dabbling in now that I find personal fulfillment, and potential money, in: TV Writing, Ebay, Freelance Writing, Article Writing. Jack of many trades, master of none? That's me. For every two hundred dollars I make at Ebay each month, could this time be better served querying magazines for thousand buck articles? Or finishing up that damn pilot for Susan? Sure. But that's pie in the sky. How about getting a real job? Or a masters' degree? How about teaching piano or tutoring, or finally writing those childrens' poems I keep talking about? When I put it all on paper, I look like a real dreamer, but the truth is, I do get a lot done in a day. But right now, I'm tired. And 40 is looming closer than 30. And at some point, I want a balance. And it's not going to come from my constant whirlwind of activity. I need less Tazmanian Devil and more Shaggy. And while I'm focusing, I'd some how like to paint the inside of my house, get some new furniture, organize my photos, lose that last ten pounds, read a book, write a book and have quality time with James at the end of the day.

Side note: Hands off to the geniouses that named a woman's nutrition bar "Balance". They know that all women who eat those delicious treats (like me) aren't really thaaaat serious about getting fit and grounded, because if they were, they wouldn't ingest a million calories first thing in the morning and delude themselves that it's healthy for them. Then, they stay that extra 10 pounds over their goal weight, which keeps them chasing their dream, buying more bars, and somehow pretending that the name itself will magically instill balance in their lives. While they are doing this, they can put Baby Einstein in the DVD so that their kids somehow get smart via the VCR (another brilliant name for a product) and drink Diet Coke. Which will make them crap. Which I am off of again as of yesterday.

More exciting goals from me tomorrow. And please, if anyone has any ideas or support, I'd love to hear from you. Of course, this won't help me focus, but I'll focus on focusing tomorrow.

Foc-us all!

2 comments:

cecelia said...

I didn't know you could play the piano....

BTW, did you know that if you leave a tub of butter open on the countertop, you will return to find your cat enthusiastically licking up all the butter?

Yummy....

Mama P said...

I will have to play for you some time. It's one of the many things I want to start practicing again. As soon as I get my walls painted. And get a piano. In time... Remind me not to eat garlic bread at your house.