It always seems the way.
After months – nay, years! – of complaining that I just don’t have enough time to write, that I have to struggle to make time, that I have to make hard choices like not going to that social gathering and not keeping the house clean and not, you know, having children, I find myself with plenty of time but no creative urges.
Perhaps the free time does something my brain. When I’m busy, I daydream like crazy. Ideas crop up everywhere! And all I can do is lament the fact that I am too busy to act upon them. When so much is going on around me, I have to force myself to focus. Those proverbial several plates spinning at once force me all in: firing on all cylinders, using 100% of my brain, however you want to describe it. That’s when I’m at my best. But I can’t keep it up for long; it’s a sprinting state of mind, not a marathon.
I’m sure a psychology major out there could confirm that this is a thing. That happens. To normal people. I am normal.
And then when I’m bored, I struggle. I get lazy. Nothing challenges me and thus I don’t challenge myself. I’m Ashleigh stripped of anything of value: a car parked for too long in the bad part of town.
Now that I’ve identified this problem, I can take steps towards overcoming it.
Unless… I just let myself enjoy this a little longer. Like a vacation. Let me just finish up a few shows on Netflix. Read a few more books. Maybe finally finish crocheting that blanket that’s been at scarf-size for a while now.
Maybe actually update this blog a little more?
Yes. Yes, that might be nice.