Perhaps it's a lack of goals that has inserted a certain randomness into my life, my writing, my selection of activities.
I struggle out of bed in the morning, get a cup of coffee and discharge my daily duties. Seven days a week I always (well almost): (1) phone my dad; (2) select, edit and title a photograph taken in and around Austin, write a paragraph or so about it, maybe add some links and post it on Austin, Texas Daily Photo.
There are things I also get around to on a regular basis at some point. I almost always make the bed although sometimes FFP does it or helps. Sometimes I strip it, put the extra set of sheets on it and wash the sheets. I'll dust, do laundry, take out the garbage, do other cleaning tasks as needed. I download digital pictures from our two point and shoot cameras for the ATxDP blog and this one and whatever uses FFP's work requires. Sometimes I write a blog entry here because, more than anything, I can't decide what else to do while I'm sipping coffee and planning the day or a quiet afternoon or evening makes me feel like typing if not writing. On Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday I drive to the club and play tennis unless the weather is inclement. It feels delicious when something is canceled like a regular tennis game. I don't know why. It feels briefly exhilarating when there is a day on the calendar that is blank. I love to get out, do things. But I love to see the calendar day inviting me to do something creative or have time to clean and sort without a rush. Almost every weekday finds me sorting through checkbooks, bills, financial stuff online and on paper and making sure that checks are written, QuickBooks and spreadsheets updated. We don't have much business stuff any longer and our financial life is not all that complicated. Still, it takes time. It feels good when it's caught up. FFP usually handles taking deposits to banks and brokers, making calls to them. I don't like making calls. To anyone, ever, really.
We socialize. We get invitations to stuff. Usually benefits and performances. We get tickets, schedule things, get it on the calendar. Occasionally we (usually FFP) are involved in organizing the event.
We write a little for publication. FFP mostly although occasionally I edit or even create a few paragraphs.
I don't focus. I think up writing projects, research projects. I think about doing something with my digital photos.
I think about connecting socially with people I haven't seen lately, encouraging others to go to events we find worthy. Sometimes I do it.
I check my e-mail, online news, twitter and facebook. Maybe I comment on my 'status' or comment on the status of others. I read other people's online journals, follow other people's links.
But where is my ardent focus? Is there a book or creative project that I need to be doing because it could only come from my mind? Should I be using my alleged talents to come up with an idea to make the world a better or more interesting place?
Or. Should I just clean the kitchen, enter a stack of receipts into my budget spreadsheets, tidy up a bit and call a friend about getting together since another friend with be in town? And thus is the dilettante mind exposed for what it is: something that ducks and darts and really never gets to the point of contact that makes something happen. Interest piqued is interest waning. Perhaps only a job or school ever focused me to real accomplishment. And, perhaps, not even then.
[Shop window reflection picture of mannequin in Hello, Kitty hat with me in Niagara Falls hat and camera at a Japanese souvenir and bubble tea shop near UT campus.]