How dare it be August?
To tell the truth, I'm not sure I've made the most of it.
I know compared to some, I've done a lot. But compared to others I'm a sloth, and anyway, the only thing that matters is if it feels enough to me.
I know in my heart what I've done and haven't done.
I've swum less.
I've written less.
I've read less.
I've been less.
I shouldn't be wasting hours and days.
Partly, it's the usual distractions. facebook and twitter, I mean YOU!
And, partly, I've been lazy.
And, partly, things hurt more than they used to. *shakes fists at hip and lower back*
|This photo pains me, as much as fills me|
. . . why must everything feel symbolic?
And I need to get on the ball.
I'm swimming Swim Across American's 5K on August 11th to help raise money for cancer research and am going to attempt a 5-mile swim with the West Neck Pod on August 25th. So there's that.
My Frankie revisions are due September 1st and I'm still working on them. I have the right to turn in my next "option" manuscript four months after that. I should have already been on that project instead. Plus, I have a wonderful independent publisher interested in my women's fiction piece Swim Back to Me, which needs to be rewritten.
I long to have my women's fiction published.
And, yet, I've wasted time.
I'm wasting time.
I squandered away too much of July, and I'm feeling it.
So, tomorrow is August.
And, I plan to milk it for all it's worth.
Let's see what I can get done.