I Can't Believe, I Won't Believe
What is it with me and time? A few missed hours turns into a few missed weekends and before I know it - look - it's February since my last posting.
Sigh.
Life is fleeting isn't it?
I visited an artist friend last week. He's 62 and looks haunted. Paints like a demon on shift work. Always talks about how much time he has wasted not painting.
I know why the obsession.
Why does inertia seem to be my reaction? Why do I work best under pressure? Why can't I just spread my work out evenly?
It's been a shit year at work. Having half an Art timetable and half an English one has doubled my work/marking/prep load.
This week it all comes to a head - tutor reports to write and exam work to mount and exhibit and deadline for my own exhibitions and proposals to write. Sheesh. So what do I do - I come here and engage in MORE displacement activity.
Seery, you're priceless.
(Shakes her head)
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