Finishing what I start: it’s not my strongest suit, I’ll admit. But somehow I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten till tonight. I opened my laptop and realized I’ve started writing, then abandoned, eight unrelated blog entries. Did I go through and systematically finish each one? Nope. Decided to start #9 here instead.
My bedside table is piled with four novels and two nonfiction books. I’m reading them all but finishing none because I keep getting impatient and switching amongst them.
My collage-in-progress box is filled with so many different severed animal, human, and insect body parts that it looks like the secret lair of a two-dimensional serial killer with a sick heart and a strong penchant for animal symbolism. I didn’t even follow through to the gluing-down stage of the planking meerkat or the back-to-school-sea-lions-and-tiger collages that I scanned and posted recently. They’re being held together precariously with nothing but tiny bits of painters’ tape, one wrinkle or tear away from utter ruination.
At work, I’m knee-deep in five different major projects. I thought I was going to finish one today, but forces beyond my control stalled me out yet again and left me back in limbo (thanks, bug-riddled state reporting web portal).
My throat started getting scratchy last Thursday and I’ve been battling congestion and a cough and a general feeling of blahness, but my body won’t even wrap that up and decide to either get fully sick or get better. I just keep flitting back and forth between thinking I’m sick and thinking I’m fine.
The other day, I left a half-eaten container of yogurt in the fridge at work that I keep forgetting about. I bet I won’t even be able to finish that before it expires.
It’s bothering me. I don’t want to live life just swatting at the ball half-assed and watching it die in the net. That’s not how you hit a winning shot. You need to attack the task at hand with a strong forehand swing and a smooth, complete follow-through.
That’s it. I’m making a stand. Right here, right now. Ima post this sucker, unpolished and imperfect and abruptly-ended as it may be. I will follow through on something tonight. And tomorrow I’m going to finish that damn yogurt if it kills me.