Crazy Busy

Sometimes when I get so busy that I can’t even feel desire for the things I am supposedly working for, I wonder…

You know that story that gets circulated about the guy who gives the lecture about filling up your time. He has a bucket that represents your life, and he puts some big rocks in first–to show the big lumps of time, like working and family, or whatever your priorities are. When everyone in the audience thinks bucket is full and can’t hold anymore rocks, he takes pebbles and fills in the gaps between the rocks. Then everyone in the audience is sure the bucket is full. But then he pulls out a container of sand, and pours that into all the tiny places between the rocks and the pebbles. Now it’s really full, but the lecturer has one last trick up his sleeve, he reveals a container of water, which of course fits in between the grains of sand..

The lesson,according to the inspirational emails I have received, is not that you can always fit more in (which is probably what I would get out of it), but that “you have put your big rocks in first.” in other words, you have to know what your priorities are and allocate your time accordingly.

All I know is the bucket is too heavy, and I’m just biding time until I can put it down.

I told myself when I got to Los Angeles I was going to take care of myself–write well and eat well and live in a clean house and exercise and keep up with my friends.

But then there was that internship…I didn’t want an internship, but it was Participant, the only place I’d ever vocalized wanting to work. And it was do-able. I couldn’t go to writing group, adn I had to work all weekend every weekend, but eventually the rocks and pebbles shifted and settled, and it was do-able.

Then one faculty got ill, and needed some assistant work done for a week or so, and I like this person and it was temporary…

I figured out the other day that between these two occupations and my in class hours, I have allocated and average of 43 hours per week. This is before transportation or eating or laundry or researching twelve page papers and shooting scenes for class. And of course before WRITING anything–for class or otherwise.

I SWEAR I put the big rocks in first…but it’s like they evaporate or maybe they get ground down. I look in the bucket and it’s full of a bunch of rocks I don’t remember putting in there.

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