The schedule vs. reality debate
(I wrote the following earlier this week as part of a comedy writing workshop I am taking. We were asked to write a piece on a neurosis we had---- please leave thoughts or advise!!).
Nothing excites me more than a spanking new planner. It’s sections and graphs of thirty or thirty-one or twenty-eight days are like bright lights at the annual fair, booming with prospect and excitement.
Of course I am a reasonable, sensible, rational individual. I understand that creating a perfectly color coded spreadsheet of next weeks schedule, down to, well the minute, does not mean that it will necessarily happen. But it endows me with certain high, an extraordinary sense of ambition and purpose. Control.
Staring back at a well scheduled week, I loose myself as the blocks of colored hours marked “coffee”, “walk the dog”, “write in café”, “drinks with Nicole”, “grocery shopping”, “return emails”, “therapy” begin take life in my head and blend into some beautiful movie that I imagine myself as the fascinating leading lady of. I feel satisfied and excited. I sense that I have met my destiny head on, he gave me a wink, I gave him a smile, we shook hands and decided to work together. Magic. I know. I think so too.
So, I have developed what some may term a scheduling/planning/list making substance abuse problem.
