But now I’m one of the dumb and docile again.
I don’t have enough time to write the stories that are possessing me. I don’t have the time to write the philosophical ideas that cross my mind. I don’t have the time to call one of my friends and say, “Hey, wanna hang out?” I have no spare time.
But last night I stopped everything when Lost was about to start. I disgust myself.
I like Lost. And I like CSI and Monk and Without a Trace and House. I’m amused by Dead Like Me and Stargate and any number of other shows. That I like them doesn’t disturb me. That I watch them does. That I interrupt other parts of my life to watch TV disturbs me. What really irritates me is that I’ll even plan my life around these shows (to an extent—I’m not a total loss). Like when I know Lost is on at 8:00 Wednesday night and I’m happy my job interview is at six so I can get home in time. It’s pathetic.
But my interview was for a part time position that will keep me out of the house some evenings, so I may get over this soon. The need to continue paying the bills does override my lethargy, so I’m hoping I’ll cure myself this way. Distraction is fine if you have nothing better to do, but I have a bunch of stuff on my plate, and watching Eureka on Tuesday nights isn’t helping.
What really has me distracted, though, is the money thing. My current inability to write stems directly from the fear that bills will overwhelm me before I find the saving strategy, the method by which I’ll keep us financially solvent for the foreseeable future. I can’t think, so I can’t write. I need to make money, so I’ll do that, and hope that eventually I can get back to what really matters.
I have to stop writing now, though. I need to help make dinner, and then CSI will be on soon.