It is six thirty-five in the morning, and I am on my way to work to begin raising hundreds of thousands of dollars for charity for two hours before doing my actual job.
I slept about three hours last night. I have eight-hundred more words due on a freelance assignment before midnight tonight and then rehearsal for the next two nights. I’ll have Thursday night to myself, unless I go out to see the show I’d like to see. Somewhere in there I have to fold some laundry and edit and upload a few gigabytes of videos for three different bands.
All that, and turn 29, on Wednesday.
Sometimes I don’t know how I’m supposed to do it – be this thing that I so desperately want to be. Like some Sisyphean Looney Toons sketch, I feel like I’m constantly plugging leaks in a giant dam only to have a new one spring for each I’ve stopped.
Can I be a successful professional in good shape with a happy marriage, an evening music career, a well-kept home, and writing gigs on the side?
Last week I tried to do it all. I was moderately successful, but it meant I was too busy to blog about it at the time. Does it defeat the purpose of being moderately successful if I don’t have time to blog about it?
Well, I’m making the time now. I’ll be moderately successful, damnit.