Yeah, I'm definitely struggling with having taken on too much.
I don't think anyone can properly frame or provide a comprehensible context for which to explain to youth, 'You will literally run out of time every day when you're an adult.'
At the same time, it seems like tempting fate if I were to complain about it.
Really, it's something that's being sorted out by attrition, and if there's one thing I learned about myself in those first couple years of being a father, it's that your real priorities will always bubble up to the top, and you'll discover if you're a good or a terrible fucking human being real quick. I'm glad I came out a good man. I've seen some other guys do the opposite.
It's one of those 'good problems to have,' or as trendy classist dickwads are fond of saying, it's a 'first world problem.' I've got a goob job, a great family, and a fair number of people that wish to engage me in various activities. I just wish I had more time for the writing and gaming.
I guess the opposite would be that I'd be unemployed and everyone would hate spending time with me. I'm glad to be on the positive side of that scale.
I've gone about a week straight with being serious about dropping weight. I've been exercising, I've been improving my diet, and I'm seeing results. I plan to continue this behavior and do what I can to finally make women jealous of my wife.
I got a great story idea last week after an odd encounter with a gruff neighbor who's rather fond of a bizarre lawn ornament. It's something about a neighborhood that welcomes some rather bizarre hillbilly neighbors that bring with them the scarecrow from hell. I imagine it being made form some badly twisted black wrought iron and maybe it comes to life at night and shit. I dunno. I banged out a page or two, and am eager to get back to it. Just not enough hours in the day.
Not much else to say.
-Blaine
