No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2001-10-01 - 1:58 p.m.

It's snowing Lilliputians. That's really not right, but it's close enough. Just read the damned entry.

I am Gulliver. Tied down by the Lilliputians. I feel paralyzed by the little things. In my life. They all seem so tedious. I have no energy for the small things. The little tasks I should be knocking off, one my one. Drop by this store for that; make this phone call to that person; send email; clean that. Do. This little. Thing. None of them are all that hard, or terrible or anything. I just plain don't feel like doing them. Any of them. I just want to chill. I want to relax. I want to sit and do nothing until my life magically morphs itself into something better. And I know it doesn't work that way. I know I have to do things. But I keep convincing myself that *this* little thing can be left alone, and I don't need to do *that* little thing right this minute. And all the time, they're piling up, like snowflakes on a tree.

The question is will I ever get around to brushing them off?

And if I don't, will I bend far enough to dump them off, and emerge straight and tall again?

Or will I break?

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