I tell you, I get a lot more done when I make up lists.
I've made two to-do lists in the past week, and I'm knocking stuff out on them. I write them twice as long as is practical, and I usually accomplish half of their itemage before I go to bed. That's the point! Make them too long, work really hard to do as many as possible, and then when it's time for sleep, I've done way, way more than I would've of my own volition (i.e., without a list).
Last night I wrote up about ten new entries in my direly neglected Small Laws blog and today I uploaded four new pictures and entries to 365XN. I know that latter hasn't been a strictly daily process, but I am playing catch-up lately, and I still take photos in anticipation of getting caught up to myself.
I'm also trying to supplement some new stories in my locked-down story-a-day blog. If you want to read that effort, you've got to let me know your preferred e-mail address: to preserve publication rights, it has to be password-protected. It just seems that I write best when I have an imaginary audience, not just into a Word document but actually freestyling right into a blog. And by "best" I mean "a lot."
Rebecca's out in Government Plaza, providing security for the OccupyMN protest, itself in support of Occupy Wall Street, the highly contentious rally that pits friends against friends as people argue for their complacency and self-defeat. Yet the people who argue against it never seem to understand what's going on: their statements, their rants and accusations fly off in all sorts of made-up and irrelevant directions. They create their own arguments and laugh at Occupy Wall St. for not adequately dealing with that concern, when it has nothing to do with the protest at all.
But the point here is: I miss my wife. She patrols while people sleep, she makes sure they get enough food and blankets, and she's doing the thing she loves: political protest. I'm happy for her, I'm so proud of her, but I also miss having her around in the evenings and crawling into bed with her. So all you jackoffs who ridicule the protesters and train all your energy upon attacking your allies rather than the source of the problem: give yourselves a nice, swift boot in the teeth for me.
So I have a lot of free time. I'm getting a lot of reading done: I just finished DeLillo's White Noise and am halfway through The Paris Review Interviews. All day I dream up lists and all night I achieve them. I just polished my Doc Martens, in fact, and I'm about to fold up the laundry I did last night. And I'll tuck myself into a large, cold, empty bed, wake up too early for work, get through my day, and come home to an empty apartment again. Because some assholes think it's okay for 1% of the population to have way, way too much money, all of which was earned from the effort and at the expense of the 99%, who themselves are starving, sick, and losing all their support infrastructure.