I must admit it… I can be lazy. There’s no excuse for my laziness to be sure but I’ve got plenty of excuses anyhow. Let’s see… excuses: “I’m tired” “I’m old” “I’m fat”… “I worked all day”… “it’s dark out”… “it’s bright out”… “I’m afraid of failure”… “I’m afraid of success”… “I’m just plain afraid in general.” You get the idea. Any excuse will keep me snuggled into my father’s old recliner with a fluffy and warm afghan wrapped around me, cat on lap and remote in hand.
Now don’t get me wrong. I work a full-time, Monday through Friday like everyone else. I’m up early, grabbing my coffee fix and then readying myself for work. But at the end of the day those few hours are mine and I admit it… I squander that time most days. There’s much I could be doing but don’t.
In my new home here in the Village I’ve got a great setup. The house is big and small enough for me with the perfect little art space just off the kitchen and right near the coffee pot. I couldn’t have picked a more perfect place for me. This house is literally a dream come true on steroids. I’d always loved old houses – still do. I romanticize them. I paint and draw lots old houses in rural settings. I have dreamed of living in one all my life. And so when I began my house search the summer before last and found this place – well I was smitten. This place is old but new. The bones and structure of this 1890’s house were kept but the rest has been completely renovated, which is a perfect match for me since I can use power tools but confess the end product is always a “bit of a cob job.” This house is perfect for me also because there is a little art spot so conveniently situated and with windows all around. Pure Heaven.
So the question then is… Why if everything is so perfect why then don’t I snag every available minute in my art spot or even writing here on my blog or writing a note to a friend or doing something productive, something besides vegging on the recliner with remote in hand?
The nice thing about writing – whether in a journal or here on a public blog – is that writing forces introspective thought. I have found that writing sorts things out, clarifies and inspires. Writing is therapeutic for me and writing somehow is
a little a lot easier that drawing and painting because writing is like talking and I like to talk.
So finally what conclusion has come from all of this
writing talking? Well, I can’t be sure but maybe I waste time because I don’t force myself when I don’t feel like it and in order to get where you want to go you sometimes have to force yourself. So next time I’m vegging in my recliner I need to get up and go into the art room, sit and make peace with me. I suspect if I do that a pencil will be in had before I know it … a brush with paint will be splashing and playing and before I know it I will be having fun. I admit it… it’s time to do something. It’s time to do anything more than sit and that’s why I’m here writing and trying to sort things out so I can get out of my own way. I admit it… it’s time.