Step 1: Make a to-do list with way more on it than is reasonable to complete in a single day. Not to mention after working 8 hours and getting that damn parking sticker renewed and having Thai food for dinner.
Step 2 (this is actually kind of step zero as it existed before step 1 even): Have a mental disorder that makes it impossible for you to do anything productive while the kitchen floor, shower, and dish drying rack are dirty. Oh and the top of the garbage can in the bathroom. Oh fuck, now you have to clean your whole apartment.
Step 3: Make sure your fiance is out for the evening seeing some wacky Japanese band so he can’t keep you on task.
Step 4: Read a charming facebook message about a clothing swap party on Saturday that you weren’t sure you were going to. Decide that yes, you will go. Oh my. Now you have to clean out your closet.
Step 5: Read Tavi’s adorable fashion blog.
Step 6: Try to buy Frye boots but they’re back-ordered (DAMNIT).
Step 7: Write in your own silly blog.
And before you know it it’s just about bed time and That Play is not finished. I didn’t think I would finish it tonight, but I did think I’d work on it a bit. It’s just that it’s about a dead teenager and it’s really hard to write a play about a dead teenager and have it not be terrible. You understand. It wants to be so terrible but I can’t let it be terrible. It’s my cross to bear.
Speaking of crosses, I got a bit of a fresh outlook on my life on Sunday. Went to church and the sermon was about the minister’s recent trip to Jerusalem. So of course it’s the classic thing about how ironic it is that everybody’s fighting over there even though none of the originators/leaders of these religions would have wanted that, etc. But he finished by talking about how we are all trying to get to our own version of Jerusalem and we get distracted along the way. And he urged us to each find our own personal Jerusalem and try to reach it every day. And isn’t that a nice thought? And helpful when I find myself caught up in trying, trying, trying to make That Play be The Best Play. The play that will make me known. Catapult me to stardom. I find it stressful not getting there. But it’s a life-long journey. How ridiculous would it be for me to have reached the end already? Having a family and being a writer and making the world a little better is my Jerusalem (Jesus, when did I get so God-y? Fuck. Balls. Strippers. Better?) and as long as I keep trying to get there, keep trying to be closer to where I’m going, then I’m good.