Enough, already.

image from Jenna Carver

Things I don't do often enough:

• Blog
• Exercise
• Weed the garden
• Write
• Laundry
• Dishes
• Vacuum
• Floss
• Dust
• Shave my legs

The list goes on, on, on. Does yours do that, too?

Superhero Andrea has a recent blog post about doing enough by choosing what enough is. The idea came to her after reading Chris Guillebeau's 279 Days to Success Overnight manifesto, which I discovered a few weeks ago and love. Andrea sums up some things that have been swirling around in my head for awhile now. She says it beautifully, so I hope you'll read her post.

As a work-at-home freelance writer, I have a lot of time on my hands to play with. By this I mean that I can shape my days in almost any way I choose. This is a huge blessing in my life and I don't want to go back to a traditional work schedule. But the downside is that without a set schedule, writing work and domestic work start to meld together. Any time feels like a perfect time to work on a project or to do chores. As such, I'm constantly fighting off the feeling that I'm not doing what I should -- or could -- be doing. Because I haven't set specific goals (exercise three times a week) or allocated exact times for tasks (work on client projects from 1:00 - 5:00), I rarely feel like I've accomplished the day's goals.

I chafe against order and structure. I tend toward chaos. But in my heart, I know that I need a schedule -- as long as it's one that I have devised. I've been trying to do this for awhile now. I finally have some things in place that will help me create order. I'm intrigued to see if I can finally feel like I've done enough by defining what enough is.

What works for you?

That Teenage Feeling

image by stop.down

It's Friday night and there's a gaggle of teenagers roaming my street. They've been up and down the road for the last hour or two, running through my front yard in this neighborhood with no sidewalks; yelling, laughing, arguing, and generally sounding exuberant.

Now they're sitting on my neighbor's front lawn, in the complete dark of this neighborhood without streetlights. I assume at least one of the kids who lives next door is among their numbers. Either that or the neighbors aren't home and these kids are delinquents.

One of the kids just got into the backseat of a car and shouted his goodbyes before it drove away. Another shouted, "Jump on it, Tyler!" And I heard Tyler's sneakers smacking the pavement as he ran after the car, going along with the joke.

And now I hear them back in my own front yard, half running around, half wandering aimlessly. A boy just said, "Smells like...smelly sperm." There has also been some debate about whether or not "she" is "at home" or "at her friend's house." I can't understand most of what they're saying, but every so often a "shit!" or a "fuck!" rises up above the crowd. A car drives past, slowing down for a moment, but doesn't stop. The kids yell something at it.

Everything is louder and more boisterous than necessary. But isn't that the teenage way?

Six months ago, I started volunteering as a mentor to a teenage girl. She just turned 16, which makes her half my age. I hadn't forgotten my teenage self and the whole sordid world of high school, but it's all come back to me in a much more palpable way since spending time with this girl.

Oh the drama! The boys! The teachers! The boys! The parents! The boys! The friends! The boys!

I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Teenagers are "on" all the time: in front of their friends, their families, their classmates, their teachers, strangers at the mall. Thank God they seem to have a bottomless supply of energy; they need it to deal with the drama trauma that soaks into every minute of their lives.

My life used to be like that, all the way through college. I always had some sort of "situation" going on. This has slowly calmed down in the ten years since graduation. At first, I remember feeling disappointed about it. A few years after graduation, whenever one of my best friends would call and ask what was new, I felt ashamed that I didn't have much to say. I missed the drama.

Now? I'm so glad the daily drama has faded. Sure, I still get riled up about things and usually have a story to tell, but everything doesn't feel so do or die as it did at 14 or 18 or 22. Now, I deal with a cranky client and remind myself that this too shall pass. The toilet leaks or the water heater breaks, and we pretend to be adults and do what needs to be done. On the other hand, things like boy problems (i.e. marital discord) and family issues (such as illness or money problems) are harder to get through; the stakes are higher and the problems run deeper. But the constant, hyperactive state of teendom has mercifully ceased.

I had a real problem with turning 30. I felt like it was the final passage from young person to adulthood. There was just something about leaving my 20s that made me fearful and sad. But now, two years on the other side of that milestone, I think I'd have to name the 30s my best decade yet. I feel more solid, more grounded. And at the same time, freer. I'm pursuing the career of my choice, married to the man I love, scheming and planning for my bright, wide future.

When you're young, in high school especially, it's hard to imagine life beyond those childhood or teenage parameters. Every insult and slight feels insurmountable. There seems to be no world beyond school, chores, activities, friends, boys, and family. For various reasons (which included: "finding" religion and becoming a social outcast; the 21-year-old love of my life shattering my heart; and being in an extremely unhealthy relationship) my last two years of high school were miserable. I was desperate to get out, but terrified of college, dreading the idea of another four years of being lonely, misunderstood, and broken.

I wish I could go back and show my younger self that all of those things, while important, are temporary. I would tell myself that the feeling of being stuck won't last forever, that I will make friends with people who "get" me; discover music I love; uncover my passions and talents; spend a summer at the beach; learn how to play the guitar; spend a year in London; get married; buy a house; start my own business; be a published writer; get my first pet; travel to Santa Fe, New York, Ireland, Chicago, Wales, San Francisco, Tucson; do things I never imagined like enroll in a five day art workshop retreat; love and be loved.

I don't know what I thought my life would look like as an adult. I can't remember having a vision of myself when I was in high school, college, or even shortly thereafter. Now, for the first time, I feel like I'm seeing and choosing the possibilities. And I'm so glad to do it without the distractions that plagued my younger years. That drama trauma has a place and serves a purpose, but I'm finally okay with leaving it to the kids.

Nothing but time, baby. Nothing but time.

I am swimming in time. I have so much free time that I squander it, forgetting its value, like a wayward pop star with her fame, or a young socialite who doesn't care about her millions because she has millions more.

I used to work a fulltime job and do freelance writing on the side. I was edgy and exhausted much of the time. I didn't have enough time for myself and was forced to follow other people's schedules that just didn't jibe with my own biorhythms.

When I left fulltime employment a year ago, I took some time to recover. I was overextended and pretty close to some sort of breakdown. Since then, I've had periods of time with a lot of work, and other periods with very few deadlines to meet. I've found that work breeds work. Researching one project always leads me to another. Securing one client somehow brings me another, even when they're not even remotely connected. And creativity breeds creativity. One idea wakes me up and generates another and another, on topics as varied as citizen journalism to art journals. When it rains, it really does pour. And so often, it truly is famine or feast. These sayings have become clichés because there is some truth in them.

During the slow times, I get lazy. But lately I've had a load of new ideas and the desire to fill my days with more useful, focused, and exciting activities. Then I immediately feel overwhelmed and wonder how I will possibly fit it all in. Fit it all in to what? I already said that I have an excess of time. So where does it all go?

Why am I not reading more books? Sending out more magazine queries? Fleshing out my book outline? Taking more walks? Seeing friends more often? Cooking more dinners? Baking more cupcakes? Playing with watercolours? Remembering to moisturize my newly-pedicured feet? Visiting more farmers' markets? Praying more often? Why am I not doing all of the things I swore I'd do if only I had the time?

I've talked with some artists who are also mothers, and they assert that the time-consuming job of child rearing can actually help them with their art. Being forced to work in shorter, more focused spurts seems to spur them toward greater creativity and productivity. Much of the analysis paralysis, the procrastination, and the fear are set aside for those glorious moments when they have the opportunity to create. They say the look back at their pre-motherhood days and wonder what they did with all that free time.

I think about this and wonder, what's my excuse for not doing all of the things my heart desires? What am I doing with my time?

I don't want to wait for a baby or some other responsibility to make me look wistfully at my previous life and ache for the long, long days filled with me-time. I have the me-time now. And I'm determined to start making it my time.

This means making lists and checking them twice. As much as I like to be a free spirit, I need some structure and accountability to keep me on task. The beauty of my life right now is that I get to choose which tasks I take on. What a glorious gift! I always secretly wished for this type of life, but never really thought I'd have it. I realize that it may not last forever. But while it's here, it's mine. And I'm going to use it well. In the process, maybe I'll acquire some skills that will help me to live fully even when external demands take up more of my time.

Tell me, how are you making your life and time your own, despite (or because of) the constraints around you?