It seems all I am worried about lately is getting everything done on time and having the time to get everything done. Truth is- I have the time to do everything, just not very well. Where do I draw the line? Where does anyone draw the line? Do I give up my aspirations of perfection and settle for the mediocre? Do I accept that I have to work harder than most people to get things to turn out great? Really, I don’t know.
I am not one-track-minded. I was not born with the gift to concentrate fully on one task and work at it until it is finished. I need breaks. I need to sit while I eat and make a phone call in the middle of cleaning. I need to look at stuff in windows when I’m headed somewhere. I cannot and will probably never be able to be one of those people who can lock themselves in a room and study for eight hours a day. My mind would rebel, my body would cheer it on and then they would both elope and leave me with nothing. Really, I know.
Of course, in the grand scheme of interstellar affairs I am sure that time is only relevant here, now. It’s that funny little paradox about time that gets me. I suppose that would mean I’d have to correct myself. In fact, I am not worried about having enough time. I am worried about the time that is yet to come.