Sunday, September 25, 2011

Oh so Wembley.

Hello there blog. It's me. A stranger, I know.

Writing feels forced today. Awkward, rough. It's been too long to feel familiar. I've been so busy. Not nice busy. Hectic busy. Missing my kids, feeling like each one hasn't received enough of me at the end of each day, feeling like things are slipping through the cracks busy.

I jumped into the middle of a wave of doing at work, spectacular enjoyable great for the gallery events. But now it's time to settle into a quiet planning month. There has to be the inhale exhale combination. Especially when the inhale has been so huge.

I'm not sure if I've written about my Fraggle personality theory before.

I think everybody is one of the Fraggles.

In recent years, I would tell you I'm a Mokey. She's everything zen and sees the beauty everywhere, readily embracing each situation, a positive thinker. Googling her name to remember the spelling I came across a site listing the character qualities of each Fraggle. Mokey's list reads motherly, spiritual, and optimistic. The me I like to be. The me I often am. 

But the busy-ness. Agh, the busy-ness. It leaves me feeling so... Wembley.

Wembley's list reads young, nervous, indecisive.

Not the me I want to be.

My catch phrase this month could have been, "What do you think?" I couldn't seem to weigh out an idea and make a plan if my life depended on it. There was simply no time to take a minute to figure it all out. I've been spending empty moments fretting about what might have been forgotten, not present in the moment. I don't work well at full capacity.

So with my calendar turned to a month with so much more white space, I'm onto a planning spree. Brainstorming, thinking, listing, scheduling. Spacing the doing out properly to create quality over quantity. Long term plans, prioritizing, action lists. A plan to work and be able to be present plan, a plan with breathing room. For gallery and renovations and my little people. Before me sits bits of paper, full of numbers, don't forgets, schedules and dates. And lovely blank paper with, more importantly, a blank stretch of time, waiting for the marching orders, to be filled with want-to's, have to's, the what, when, who and where. The don't forgets should turn into won't forgets, the running nowhere into progress, the chaos into a rhythm. Ahh...

Love the exhale.   

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