Hi Blogspot. I apologize for not consistently visiting you. I suck.
How was I able keep almost daily journals for so many years? Handwritten pages and all... especially given that I can type 90+ words a minute now?
Hi Duke. I apologize for not having walked you in the last 2 days. I'm tired.
He's laying by my door, face on paws, dejected. Little does he know we're about to hop in my car for a quick ride to... the park across the street. Yes I'm tired. But I persist.
Tick tock... how long can I continue like this, sleeping less than 6 hours a night and working almost 6 days a week, I don't know, but I'm trying to make the best it. To maximize my legendary energy at the ripe age of 29. That's right, RIPE. I will celebrate my 30's and try to live up to my vision of what that means. Meanwhile, 29 shall not go down in the history books as a year of not-so-extraordinary achievements. Or living passively. It's gotta mean something. I have to grow somehow. I'm a progressive...
Yet here I find myself sitting on my pre-school inspired laminated floor in front of my computer, sighing. About as dejected as Duke, although somehow he's perked up already, sensing this magical 30 second ride to the park across the street.
First concrete objective as a 29-and-two-month-year-old (yes you read that right): Achieve congruity between private and public persona. Happy and alarmingly and impossibly upbeat all the time. I understand I'm allowed to have my moments, but I rather not wallow. So, to take a page out of 20-year-old Frances' journal: Must take time to identify what makes me happy, what makes me sad, what my strengths are and what I need to work on. Write it down, and work on it. My work ethic is also legendary at work... so there you have it. It must be done.
Real objective: Sigh no more.
Now, having just read back this post... I think what I really need is just a drink. And maybe a movie. Maybe Lord of the Rings. Maybe it's going to be a long night.
Sigh.
