I have discovered I'm terrible at getting things done. I'm not sure why--it could be a lack of discipline (never having to study for tests in school because you have a near photograhic memory leads to a shocking lack of a sense that you have to work for things) or maybe a hypersensitivity to stimulation (as the psychologists posit is possible for a Jungian Introvert like me) or another side effect of my low esteem that says whatever I do doesn't matter, no one cares but me, so why not just bunk off and finish that book you started yesterday? I don't know, but the effect is the same, I just don't get things done. Or I do the minimum required and never really get ahead--although I can honestly say that doing the minimum required is more easily understandable to me. Sticking my neck out by extra effort never got me anything good when I worked in the corporate world, so I stopped doing it. One lesson I have learned, and learned well. (Hmmm, maybe this contributes to the 'nobody wants to hear it' aspect of my not getting things done issue, too....)
Whatever, I'm getting tired of angsting and the angst getting in the way. But if I divorce my emotions from the writing, the writing is flat and, frankly, just plain bad. So what to do? No, seriously, what do I do at this point? There's supposedly some value in writing through the angst, but I've never been able to do it. I've been able to write freely and well when the project only took three hours or less, but that's about as long as I can go before the angst gets overpowering and starts affecting the words. As you can imagine, this is a non-starter.
I need suggestions. If anyone out there has an idea, no matter how weird or flaky or outer space it might be, I'll listen and probably try it, at least once because for once I'm completely and totally fresh out of new ideas. Even sitting upside down in my chair and watching television (which usually jogs something out) doesn't work.
I suppose it doesn't help that Mater Gloriosa has decided we have to start preparations for Thanksgiving (last year, oh, my God, it's only 12 months away, what are we going to do, how will we get everything done!?!?!??!) today. She busily throwing out everything in the freezer because who knows, we might need sixteen cubic feet of storage for frozen foods for one holiday. *eye roll* Even with 16 people here, it doesn't have to be this big a deal. I don't know how I'm going to cope.
I hate the holidays. I so seriously do. Thank God Christmas is at the brother's this year, or I'd kill someone.
(Sorry for the fractured post, people. I'm trying to type this and my mother is asking me if XYZ thing is mine or if she can throw it out because you never know, we might have to shove a 50 pound turkey in there for a week and a half. Help me.)