No, I haven’t dropped off the earth. I’m still doing pretty well, give or take a few days; and I haven’t forgotten you all while I foray into writerdom. So what’s happening? Why no posts? Well, I have a problem. It’s worse than hemorrhoids, worse than constipation. It’s even worse than MENOPAUSE (that’s a whole ‘nother post).
My multi-tasker is broken.
You know, that skill set that allows you to do ten things at once, not well, but still multiple things. I excelled at keeping balls in the air in the past even when plagued by Winston, the black dog of depression. However, Winston ran amok this time and broke a few things, mainly what the diagnostic manuals call concentration, persistence and pace. These abilities are more precious than a Ming dynasty vase and crucial to performing daily functions – like working. When I retired, Dr. G. and I assumed relief from the stress would help put the pieces back together again. Well, the answer has been yes and no. Yes, I can concentrate better, complete more detailed tasks, and work on ongoing projects; the foray into writing original fiction has been better than what I anticipated.
But I can’t seem to multi-task to save my life. You know, doing more than one thing each day: writing fiction and exercising; writing fiction and dieting properly, writing fiction and blogging. Things normal people accomplish in their daily schedules. Now that I’ve progressed to more detailed tasks and I want to, say, write AND blog in the same day, the gal in the control room says: sorry, the multi-tasker is still broken; did you insure this thing? I don’t even know what that insurance would look like.
Therefore, I’ll blog when I can. Right now, I’m still prepping for NaNoWriMo which kicks off next month. Since it’s an exercise in total creative writing
obsessiveness immersion, I don’t expect to be even eating then. I’m also preparing to formally submit a short story for publication for the first time ever. Then I’ll wait eight weeks for my first rejection letter ever. I’m really chuffed.
But don’t worry, the psych pose wants a summit to discuss problems (the newly named Julie has more to say, to the chagrin of Jada and Jodi); Patty the pom hints at divorcing me if her attention allotment drops any more; and The Man is overdue for another adventure. (Speaking of The Man, I submitted one of his stories for review. Reviewers that got it loved him; the ones who didn’t asked: why doesn’t he have a name?) I’ll try to post when I can and see if I can find the warranty on my multi-tasker.