Lately I've been really wondering how to get unstuck. I feel like there's a pile of projects and work miles high, and instead of systematically working my way through it, I'm just adding to it, and then doing other things. Obviously, blogging isn't exactly helping, but it is one of the things I think about when I think of not doing things I'd really like to do. I should carry a list around with me all day and every five minutes write what I'm actually doing. I'd probably surprise myself. But how to make it stop? How to just get things done? I remember reading a book a long time ago about a man who'd found himself paralyzed because he could no longer make a decision. The advice to him was interesting in the story, something like, walk everywhere, only read the almanac-- wish I could remember what story that was. Maybe I could try the advice. Okay, now I remember, it was John Barth's novel, end of the road. I'll try reading that and see if it helps. I seem to remember it being very enlightening at the time.

At any rate, this is of course the crux of the problem, reading philosophical fiction is not on my to-do list. Neither is writing this post. But both of them seem like fairly legitimate ways to spend an afternoon. In addition to washing dishes, making a family tree with Nina, reading the New York Times, and taking a nap. Such is life right? Everyday I say I should really figure out what needs to get done and then do it. It all sounds so simple. But then the list is so long and frighteningly overwhelming that I just putter around doing small insignificant things and wasting time. "Our life is frittered away by detail, simplify simplify" I need to figure out how to employ this method -- at the same time without feeling like I'm sacrificing all the richness and fullness that I get from doing unplanned things. Yesterday was an entirely unplanned day, we got breakfast, went to the farmer's market, the library and the thrift store, came home and drew pictures, played with the puppy and ate leftovers. It was lovely. I need to be able to appreciate those sorts of days without feeling guilty about it afterwards. Or is it the guilt that keeps you from getting to lazy? I just hate feeling regret. My ennui seems to be spiraling out of control. Am I depressed or just lazy? I just want my life to be simple. What does that mean? I don't really know. I want to have time to do both the things that I need to do, and the things that I want to do, and be able to do them well.

to be continued...

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