I thought it would be interesting to jot this down from underneath the fog of a massive headache. It's crazy heavy in here. Like God playing chess with Nietzsche. Because that would be one serious chess match, wouldn't it? And ironically, this heaviness, it makes my thoughts kind of light. Like this one: a pecan half looks kind of like a squished brain. And while I'm on the subject of pecans: p'con, pee-con, or p'can? My childhood in the south leads me to pee-con more often than not. But I've been known to utter all three variations, and maybe a few others, depending on my mood. Language should be flexible, shouldn't it ya'll? Sorry . . . hon?

And . . . oh, look here, I just went to answer the phone and, well, I ripped a hole in my shorts. Not in the ass, though. But down near the end of the left leg. Down where the cuff is. Is that a cuff, that thing? I mean, a cuff - that's usually something you'd envision on a pair of pants, isn't it? Not shorts. But I guess just because it's on a pair of shorts and not on a pair of pants doesn't make it any less of a cuff, does it? Or maybe it does.

Oh, shit. This is why people ridicule blogs, people. Look carefully. IT'S ALL RIGHT HERE.

What's really troubling me isn't the correct pronunciation of pecan. Or the use of the word cuff. What's got me is the lists. And I know I wrote about this last time, but what can I say, these are some massive lists, brother. You don't make laundry with these here lists. These here are dry cleaning lists. Because lists are supposed to consist of tasks. And sure, mine's got a few of those things on it. But mostly it consists of projects. And the projects are sort of undefined, which makes breaking it up into tasks it's own task. So I try writing that one down: break project up into tasks. But making a task like that is kind of silly. I mean, where does it end? You never reach a step that you can execute without actually executing the step. Here's another one that's hard to act on: Determine timeline. When the project is undefined, and the tasks are non-existent, how does one come up with a timeline? Still, it needs to be done. So I put it down. Then there are the tasks that you hope to complete, and they just remain partially checked off. A good example here would be paint bedroom. I got this one mostly done yesterday. But not quite. So there it remains. And the others pile up on top. Making them all heavy. Like God. And Nietzsche.

Sometimes the obstacle to a really good list is that you have to make decisions before you can jot down the task. And I can be really lousy at those things sometimes. Freakin' decisions. For instance, there's the whole issue of a second vehicle. I could easily put on my list, Get truck. Because, good god, I'd love a six or seven year-old Toyota Tacoma 4x4. So I could put it down, and I could work towards that thing and eventually cross it out. But it's not on the list right now. And the reason it's not on the list right now is that in order to put it there, I would have to add a few words in front of the primary action. So it would come out reading something like this: Decide whether or not to . . . get truck. And you can't put a decision on a list. Sure people do it, but they really shouldn't. Because you're just asking for trouble. In my case, I start considering cost and affordability and weighing those things against the benefits and drawbacks, and pretty soon I've reached an impasse with myself and I'm dead center on a rickety old bridge above a huge chasm and walking to either side or staying where I am, none of it seems to matter much. They all seem like bad ideas. And so, when that happens, you have to take it off the list, and hope the answer will come to you in your sleep. Which is unlikely given the amount of that stuff you're getting these days.

But there is this to feel good about: I started this with a headache. A big one. And now it's gone. Sometimes all it takes is sitting down and jotting down some words. Even from underneath it all, writing has always helped me focus. I suppose I should learn from that. Huh. I'll add it to the list.

link to this | comments (4) | File:  Writing  Ho_Hum