Actually, a better way to say it is this: I feel like half of my brain is burning out from overuse, and the other half is rotting. I knew it was getting bad when I found myself suddenly, desperately excited at the prospect of teaching GMAT math. Or hell, ANY math. My 10th-grade tutoring student whipped out her geometry homework this week, and it was like someone had offered me - dare I say that deadly four-letter C-word? - cake.
Meanwhile, the right side of my brain is busy failing at two blogs, four social media accounts, six email addresses, a line-editing project, and writing the first draft of one whopping big manuscript that really, positively needs to be done by Christmas.
To be clear: these are all TERRIFIC problems to have, and I'm grateful for every one of them. It's just that collectively, they do end up with me sitting at my computer, begging myself to do something - anything! - but mostly staring at the dried sneeze-speckles on the screen in vacant fascination.
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| Dramatic re-enactment, starring my nephew, Pete. |
Actually, I think this is a small part of the reason why I am so dang excited for WorldCon this week. Hanging out with people in real-time is such a joy, you know? Yes, it wears you out in its own peculiar way, but what a relief to only have four seconds to draft your response, instead of letting that blinking cursor leer at you for hours, or a whole entire weekend, while you attempt to compose the reply which will stand forever as a testament to your craft and thoughtfulness, or embarrassing lack thereof.
Dear Grandma,And no, it's not like every tweet and post and 3AM drunken gmail missive has to be some Ozymandian monument for the ages - but every one of them is explicitly meant to be noticed by somebody (especially when you are now in the business of being noticed by as many people as possible!), so why wouldn't you want them to look their best? Especially once people have seen what your best really looks like. From then on, they'll know in a heartbeat if you show up with anything less.
Thank you so much for the Precious Moments figurine. I'll think of you every time I see this adorable club-footed cherub, and remember to make my monthly donation to the Tow-Headed Caucasian Children's Fund. Can't wait to see you at Kitschmas!
My God, is this what it's like to feel incapable of leaving the house without makeup? Shall I never again browse the aisles of the Internet in my social sweatpants?
Well, perhaps not today.
And so I continue overclocking my frontal lobe, wallowing in problems that I am absolutely delighted to have, cultivating perfectionism at the expense of promptness, and wishing like the dickens that I weren't always, constantly, CONTINUALLY keeping at least one person waiting on me for something or other.
Sorry about that, y'all. C'est la belle vie. But if anyone needs any help with solving simultaneous equations or calculating probability, I am prepared to render aid with positively blistering vigor. In the meantime, bring on WorldCon!
Psst. Your participles are showing, dear.
Have fun!
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