the dread of scheduling.

it's the weirdest thing, blogging.  i feel guilty when i don't do it, like the blog is a living thing, a neglected friend that is hurt by my procrastination.  and, like a real friend, the longer you go without speaking, the harder it becomes to bridge that awkward, guilt-ridden gap.

i don't mean to stay away, i really don't.  i intend to write every day, not for the fact of online self-indulgence, but simply because i know that i need to write to be sane.  and i like this forum.  i like the idea of a virtual catch-all, a journal with the possibilities of photos and recipes to share and without the tiresome effort of handwriting (it cramps after a while!).

but.
as we all know, life tends to get away from you unless you grab it with not one but both hands.  days seem to literally disappear as they melt into one another, and without discipline (because oh, how i lack discipline!), i end up doing none of the things that i intend to do.  and i wake up every morning intending again, always intending.

it goes against my artistic temperament, but i think that making a schedule for myself - regardless of how it chafes at me - may be my only hope.  it's not exactly the same thing, but let me offer a case in point:  on our honeymoon, i decided that chris and i shouldn't plan anything for our trip, except for booking the flights, ferries and the rental car.  we would pick up the car in london, drive through northern wales, ferry to dublin, and then spend the next two and half weeks roaming the irish countryside.  we would be spontaneous! and carefree!, two whimsical souls so in love that we could not help but have a magical time.
but then it rained and rained and rained...the rainiest summer in fifty years. the campgrounds flooded, and we shivered in our tent wearing all the clothes we had with us (not exactly the picture of newlywed bliss).  every hotel, motel, b&b, hostel and guesthouse on the entire island of ireland was booked up (summer tourist season, anyone?).  we would often find places to stay at the last minute (i.e. later in the evening, after much stress) that were not nice but still not cheap.  we slept in the car on not one but two occasions.  as fun as that sounds, it wasn't really.
we still had a great time in ireland, but it could have been one heck of a lot better if only i had been willing to make a plan and stick to it, rather than trying to leave everything open-ended so that we would be available for whatever incredible and sudden opportunities would come our way.  and which often didn't, at least not where accommodation was concerned. 

it's sort of the same, isn't it?  instead of planning my days, even a little bit, i just assume that my best intentions will get me through.  combine that notion with my pathetically poor concept of time and what do you get?  a thoroughly unproductive person, verging on 30 with no foreseeable career possibilities (part of which may involve my distaste for the word 'career' and its connotations) and a head full of dreams.  no, heather, just because you delusionally assume that you can paint multiple paintings, write something worth publishing, cook elaborate and healthy meals, play your guitar, finally learn your mandolin, and make a family christmas movie from old home videos all within this week, does not mean that it is possible.  especially when you waste all your time on facebook (for shame!). 
i just really hate having a schedule.  it makes me not even want to do the things that i do want to do!  plotting things out seems to be the antithesis of creativity, and yet i suppose that the alternate (doing nothing) is not very creative either.  so i am going to try, God help me.

i would like to try to write something here every day.  i'm sure i will, for a few days, and then it will peter off again.  unless...maybe i will try to write every day for a month.  a whole month!  wowee.  they say habits are formed through repetition.
one can only hope.

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