six more hours

Everything that doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. And later on you can use it in some story.

- Tapani Bagge

six more hours - That’s how many more I could use in a day. Even four more would do. For someone who cringes at the mention of a 9-5 job, I’m busier than even I can figure out. Let’s see, the last two weeks have included the following and more:

Music video sets, photo shoots, hunting expos, expensive gyms, not-so expensive gyms, expensive city outings, interstate lion dancing, half-assed spears, weekend teaching, bridal shower planning, birthdays, conference preparation, tennis tournament inquiries, headshots, working at the magazine, article writing, online magazine planning. . . not to mention that in the next few weeks there are graduate classes to start, an anniversary to celebrate, t-shirt website designing that must be done, rock climbing, more lion dancing, bachelorette party planning, more conference preparation, more teaching, and at some point, a game of tennis or two.

Surprisingly, though, I’m not overwhelmed.

Okay, maybe a little, sometimes even a lot. More than a few days have gone by where I haven’t had a chance to write anything, except for in my planner, which doesn’t count. So what consolation do I find – that in almost everything I do I try to find ideas to write about. Perhaps it’s the schemer in me, but there’s always something, even in the most mundane.

Some of the most prolific writers have the most mundane jobs. Not that I’m saying I want to do that, at all, but it’s true, all the crazy errands I run, that never make my list of things-I-did even though they might actually constitute one-third of my waking hours, have garnered me the craziest ideas. Like a trip to Blockbuster last night that didn’t yield any good movies but rather a headache, I would be missing out if I didn’t write something about it. When I was there, I didn’t know what I would rather listen to, one employee talk to himself while stocking movies, counting numbers so abruptly that I was startled at least twice, two employees shout at each from across the store, like the full-length, from the very front to the corner in the back, or two employees get together to shout at each other about the meaning of life. If anything, situations like this provide a strange look at the human condition - the sad, sad confused human condition. When we walked out, they were shocked, and almost visibly upset, that we hadn’t found a movie. Not to mention the crappy, beyond crappy, movie selection there is to choose from these days, there was no way I could’ve intelligently chosen a movie listening to them. So we left, with my most sincere, “You have a great night.” I worked in retail a long, long time ago. Yeah, I know, it’s not fun, and neither are customers, but there’s a level of courtesy and professionalism that should be upheld in any job. I know, tangent. . .

Point is, I left with a smile, of sorts. It definitely wasn’t the most enjoyable part of my day or week, but if I could find the humor in that, then there’s hope for all things mundane and hectic.

Even better, imagine when we do all the things we love, everything that keeps us busy, how much there is in that – how much there is to write about. Yeah, I’ve had a crazy month, but I’ve enjoyed it, and the errands are only brief intervals that I’ll laugh at and deal.

You have to love what you do – or else what’s the point?