Talking to myself, now

Buster reminds me every day to write and every day I ignore him. Couple that with the desire I have to actually write every day. So what's up with that? Buster tells me to write; gives me the means to do so; I have the time; I don't write.

I love to draw. Drawing makes me happy. It's something that I enjoy doing and sometimes do well. I have all the equipment (and then some) that I need to make drawings. I don't have any kids to feed or get to bed, and I have time to draw and things I want to draw. I have a desire to draw every day; yet I don't. I have empty sketchbooks and sharp pencils, but still no draw. So what's up with that?


Maybe I'm lazy. Maybe I'm just a big fat lazy slob and that's why I don't write or draw. Fox says I'm not lazy; she says I am too hard on myself. Fox is not known for her rose coloured glasses when it comes to people; nor is she known for saying nice things to people just for the hell of it. This leads me to a guess that maybe she's not lying? That maybe I'm not lazy?

So then if I'm not lazy what's my excuse? or rather, why do I put up excuses not to draw or write or paint or make? I'm so good at making excuses I don't even have to make up an actual excuse. I just use the "excuse" card - don't even know what's written on it. I don't make up excuses about going to work! apart from today where I did actually make an excuse to not go to work because I feel depressed and a little bit lactose intolerant.

If it's not laziness, it must be fear. Do you think it's Fear? Okay let's look to see if it's fear. What could you possibly be afraid of? I ask myself: are you afraid you won't do anything worth a damn? is that your problem? So what! You're just you, sitting at home Michelle. Like anyone cares what you're drawing. You're not working towards an exhibition or art show. Are you afraid of being successful at it? Ohhhh see now that's the sort of thing you'd hear on an American television programme. But that's got to be a crock of poo too. I reckon you're not lazy and I don't think you're scared. I think you lack grit. I reckon you lack the ability to see things through to their conclusion. I don't think you can finish jobs. I don't think you like things to be done.

Like your packed boxes in Australia. They sit there in Willo's garage and annoy him. You make the excuse that you don't have the money to ship them over but then you buy a car. Now you really don't have the money to ship them over. Is it the money? or is it that once you've shipped them over, you no longer have the tie to the place and people you loved so much?

Like when you used to help people write their memories at the Hospice. They only got that service when they were really sick and wouldn't recover. And you always left everything sit for ages before you did it. You hated finishing those stories because you knew that once they were finished, within weeks that person would die. I mean that's a pretty far-out thing to think about but it did really affect you and would eventually have affected the quality of the work you did for those people.

Like that thing for Todd; imagine if you'd done that, and he loved it, and it made you money. What the hell would have happened then? You might have had a new career right there.

So all in all the answer might be a bit from all the columns right there. You are a bit lazy, a bit scared, and lack grit.


Is there a way to get grit? I would think that by doing small things and finishing them would be a good start. Like making your bed for a month. Or keeping the kitchen cleaner. Or cooking every day. Or for the love of god finish the dining room!

And here I am writing to myself, telling myself things I already know and agree with. But I'm lying on my unmade bed in a house with an unfinished dining room and a messy kitchen with no food in it and my stomach is grumbling.

Do I lack grit? or do I lack Action? Oh many I just LACK. Alas, alack.

I stayed away from work today because I feel down in the dumps. No particular reason outside of eating poorly of late. Does this realisation mean I bound out of bead and cook a delicious, nutritious meal to eat my way out of this slump? Highly unlikely. First I'd have to go to the Supermarket and I just can't face that today so that stops any potential culinary solution dead in its tracks.

Remember when we first heard about The Power of Now. I mean, it's a simple concept; so simple I never needed to read the book. But it's good to recognise that I seem to live either side of the NOW. Either dwelling on the things in the past, let's call them REGRETS; or imagining a far rosier future than my flawed temperament will ever allow. And then there's the window that is this moment. I waste that time constantly. I'm wasting it right now. I really only give it to my job and then, only sparingly.


Through all the things that have made me who I am right now; I still live either side of that place most of the time with very tentative toes dipping into what's happening this very minute. Because NOW is a bit scary, isn't it? It's where all of life takes place. Everything outside of that window is a memory or a plan.

NOW doesn't have the sureness of hindsight nor the rosiness of the future. It is raw and real and (apparently) paralysingly scary. The fancy word they call the cure for this these days is MINDFULNESS. The thought of truly emersing in this very moment all the time is .. wow it's bloody terrifying.