Determination Through Sleep-Fogged Eyes

Clock on East Montague (photo by South Charleston via Flickr, licensed under Creative Commons)

I’ve been referred to as stubborn, but I absolutely refuse to accept this despite evidence to the contrary.

Let me set the stage a bit.

I recently made a career change. I make websites (yes, I know, this one needs a face lift, and it’s on my to-do list, I promise). As I make my living doing a mix of contract and freelance work, I go to several professional networking events. I also do applied theatre work. I’m also still a writer…no, really, I even published something recently…and we have a beautiful two-year-old daughter. The end result is that I’m always, always stretched for time.

Now, I don’t pretend to be any more stretched for said time than anyone else out there. We’re all way too busy for our own good. Over the weekend, I stepped out onto our balcony into a brisk Autumn morning with a steaming cup of coffee in hand to breathe in a relaxing few breaths. I used to spend 20-30 minutes doing this, especially on weekends. This was the first time in weeks, and it lasted about three minutes before I was called back into action as Daddy. I tried to get up early to do some reading and praying…it lasted for a week or so. Mostly, I find that the only way that I accomplish what I need to accomplish with my day is to force myself to stay up late, even though I know that I have to rise early tomorrow morning to negotiate an always-interesting commute into Boston.

Thus, I am always, always tired.

Now, the most logical thing to do would be to go to bed and catch up on some sleep. Unfortunately, nothing gets done when this happens: I let client deadlines get dangerously close, I allow my writing to languish (as evidenced by the digital sagebrush that’s blown across this space for the last week or so). Of course, eventually I’ll become so tired (I’m yawning as I write this) that I won’t be able to do anything well, and my hand will be forced as I collapse into the beckoning covers of our most-inviting bed.

It’s not just about finishing what I have to do, though. It’s about doing what I want to do. I want to spend time with our daughter, so I’m intentional about that. I want to spend time reading books, and maybe watch an occasional movie. If all I do is work, come home and crawl into bed only to repeat the cycle the following day, then I don’t think that’s living. I guess I’m radical in the sense that I think employment is there to serve the person working rather than the person existing to serve the employment.

So, is that being stubborn? Or are my intentions, at least, if not my practical applications, in the right place?

Or am I just suddenly very horrible at time management?

Time will tell…

Image attribution: North Charleston under Creative Commons.

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