hendelar

sometimes you just gotta' row

it’s time.

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I’m failing, maybe. I came here so long ago to do something that has yet to be done.
The nature of a distraction is inherently personal and therefore involves a degree of intent. It’s only a distraction to me if I allow it to be. I choose my poison.

I can classify certain behaviours and activities as necessary. Got to put the garbage out. Have to shop for groceries. Really need to finish cleaning up the office and remove the un-filed, un-opened and the unnecessary.

Three hours later I’m bogged down in detail and there’s still too much of the above-noted trio lying around. Issues become exacerbated by their own existence. Because the office-filing task has begun, there’s stuff laid out on the floor that creates clutter and is in the way of other things. There’s a whole discourse available here but when the smoke clears, I have not written a single word related to my purpose for being here. I’ve betrayed all the doing and the leaving and the shake-ups; there was a dear cost paid to be here.

Sure, there’s been responsibilities related to important relationships that I’ve had to undertake. There have been new relationships that I’ve enjoyed, there’s been this and that…distractions of my creation.

It was last year that I decided to blog. I wanted to figure out the hows and whats and knew that it would be an important medium for promoting the book I’m writing. The blogging was to serve as a way of maintaining contact while still allowing me to focus on my work during irregular hours and it also provided a sort of writing warm-up.

When all is said and done, I’ve been here for fifteen months, five months longer than I’d planned to be; I’m pissed about it.

regret, time remain
yet another arc
crosses life, fills my eyes
pens words
wished stillborn
than bitter
glh

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Written by glh

November 20, 2010 at 06:34

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