I'm struggling. As does everyone else from time to time.
I really hate "whining" to people or page, so it is often held in.
And I'm sure this entry is better suited to my journal.
Words and ideas and to do lists are swirling in my brain.
Some are exciting, some are exhausting and some just make me want to cry.
Or eat chocolate.
And that's another thing! People keep bringing me chocolate when they visit!
And I keep buying it! AAAAH!
Chocolate goes against one of the things on my swirling to do list.
Which is eat less sugar and lose body fat.
It seems often that my blog posts turn into lists of things we've done in the weeks since I've posted last. My journal entries have lots of lists in them. My essays even sport an occasional list. And I've been writing -- gasp -- poetry (*said with a shameful shake in my voice*) lately. Which are mostly in list form, as well.
What's up with that?
Where do the lists come from?
I never thought of myself as analytical or linear in any way.
My house is in constant natural disaster mode and my art and writing is spread all over my office. Nothing else in my life is in lines. Why on the page?
Is it because I crave order amidst my chaos?
But sometimes I wish for no lists. Sometimes I wish for a time when there is nothing to put on my lists. For there not to be a need for lists.
So many things swirling in my head create a desire for the lists, I think. To make sense and order out of the spaghetti up there.
And I crave the open-ness to express all those swirling thoughts and descordant dreams ... but I think it would be shocking to see for some, so out of deference to them, out of fear of rejection and non-acceptance, and out of sheer discomfort from being in a vulnerable position ... I don't write it down here.
Let the judging commence.