If I learned anything from seeing the Chicago production of Hamilton this weekend, it's that I should be writing like I'm running out of time. Also, that I should look into bringing back colonial-era fashion. We own two tricornes in our house. Two. My wife and I would rock the heck out of the Winter's Ball.
THE BEAN. AKA, Cloud Gate. Which is a baller name. For Chicago's giant bean mirror.
OK, first, yes, my whole family spent the weekend in Chicago, trotting up and down the Magnificent Mile and eventually seeing a Sunday matinee of that revolutionary musical, Hamilton. I could rave about that for hours. In fact, I already have, mostly in the car ride back. It's a show I want to see over and over again, hunting for the nuances, charting the perfect usage of light and timing, melting at every spectacular segment of sound. It's the best kind of overwhelming.
I'm haunted by the character of Alexander Hamilton, and by his modern day vessel, Lin-Manuel Miranda. There is a dogged, ferocious ambition about them both. I'm jealous of their genius. I can't help but reflect on my own ambitions, and I question whether I have the smarts or the personality to exact the kind of change I'd like to bring to the world. Who will tell my story? More significantly, will I even leave a story worth telling?
"Why do you write like you're running out of time?" Aaron Burr asks of the bulldoggish postwar Hamilton, who churned out essays at a breakneck pace. The answer is obvious: Hamilton is running out of time. We all are.
OK, I'll take my foot off the gas of the Existential Express. Still, the thought lingers. Am I doing enough? Is the quantity and quality of my writing sufficient? What about my other creative endeavors, like art and music? I could be doing so much more. Right?
It all comes down to time management. As you may have guessed from the title of this entry, it's not my forte. I can't seem to concentrate on one thing at a time, so my way of getting things done is this chaotic, round-robin method of jumping from one project to another, minutes, sometimes even seconds apart.
Here's how my system of time management tends to shake out:
- Read a paragraph of an article about women in the financial sector
- Leap over to my blog entry (on a completely unrelated topic) to insert a photo
- Back to the article for three minutes, the first minute of which is spent rereading the paragraph from my first attempt
- Switch to reading a section of CFP homework
- Read the same page of homework three times in a row without absorbing a single concept
- Get distracted by Pokemon Go, dump inventory of pinap berries
- Google "pokemon go what the hell do pinaps do"
- Realize I've just thrown away gold in digital fruit form
- Comfort myself with a snack (but not fruit, because the wound is too fresh)
- Gaze vacantly at the article I started reading an hour ago
- Abruptly hyperfixate on designing a cover for my next novel
- Stare at a list of stock photos until my contacts dry out and begin to fuse with my corneas
- Fail to complete any of the tasks I've started because my eyes are too blurry to see the screen anymore
- Somehow manage to play Breath of the Wild for two hours anyway
All that nincompoopery, and I didn't even accomplish anything. Yeah, a lot of the bouncing around has to do with my super-intense-focus-on-one-thing or inability-to-focus-on-anything duality. But it also has to do with my anxiety (it always comes back to anxiety, doesn't it?).
I have so much I want and need to do that I find myself overwhelmed at the prospect of prioritizing my actions. There's the matter of keeping the house in order, fixing the little quirks that pop up in it, preparing dinner, etc. Then there's classwork, which is partially scheduled, partially on my own. Then there's writing, both fiction and this blog, and all the marketing that goes with it (that I know I'm not devoting enough resources to as it is!). There's painting commissions, and my interest in writing/producing music with Kelsey, and maybe putting together a podcast. There's networking events for my job. There's exercising. There's puppies. Oh gawd, are there puppies.
I've decided there are two things that I need: a schedule and a kick in the pants.
In terms of a schedule, I'll have to go against my wacky-inflatable-arm-flailing-tubeman nature and box out my hours. A few things I have in mind for weekdays:
- Use my lunch break at work for reading homework
- Get in my daily PoGo on my way home from work (of course I'm still playing, even after the pinap mishap)
- Either walk the pups or spend some more time reading once I'm home
- Attend my online class when it's scheduled. When it's not, use that time to study or write
- Prepare dinner. If someone else prepares dinner, do some writing or housework
After dinner, it's pretty much a crapshoot. It's generally either bedtime or watch-some-shows-as-a-family time, both of which I'm down for.
Or...
I could write like I'm running out of time.
Maybe the Hamiltonian kick-in-the-pants is too much for me to feasibly maintain. Still, I'd like to try. I want to make a mark. I want to produce stories about people who don't get to see themselves in stories very often. I want to bring sunshine to the lives of my family, friends, and readers. I want to give animals good lives. I want to take action against social and political evil. I want to succeed as a financial planner so I can make the future a little safer, a little less scary for other families.
I want to be good.
Also, I want to hear your suggestions. Organized people: how do you schedule your days? Do you have any tips? I'M IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE.
Alrighty, my scheduled writing time is running out. Until next time!
(P.S.: If you need a kick in the pants, I challenge you to participate in the July Camp NaNoWriMo! Let's get writing!)