Shit. You know, making a schedule is a hell of a lot like making a list, and I am notoriously bad at making lists.
That’s not actually true…I am notoriously bad at following lists and/or remembering that I have made a list at all.
My desk is usually covered in bits of paper, with scribbled lists. Like the grocery lists I make, and then forget to take with me when I finally make it out the door to head to the store. Sometimes I’ll remember the list and shove it into a pocket and then forget I have it as soon as I enter the store. Sometimes I remember I have the list but choose to ignore it, foolishly believing I have all the items committed to memory.
I read an article a while back that said most stores will pump pleasing scents into their air to encourage shoppers to buy. I am of the belief that stores pump stupidity into their atmospheres, because it doesn’t seem to matter where I go to shop, as soon as I walk in, I almost always stop just inside the door and wonder, “What the fuck did I come here for?”.
I don’t know what it is.
My greatest fear in life is that my memory will fail me. I actually have nightmares about it, and I frequently take the “Alzheimer’s Test” online. Seriously. I do.
My Mother has lost her marbles, and through the marvel of genetics, marble losing tends to run in families. My Mother writes post-it notes, to remember her post-it notes, to remember her post-it notes… last time I saw her, every cupboard door and her refrigerator door, was absolutely polluted with yellow post-it notes. Most of them were duplicates.
Nu-uh. I use post-it notes to leave love notes for my Husband. That’s it.
So making a blog schedule…I think I’d be setting myself up for a whole lot of irritation and undue pressure. Jesus Christ if I can’t even commit to a grocery list how am I supposed to follow a blog schedule?
I’m still hashing out my intentions for this website anyway. Chaotic and impulsive…loosely structured and full of ideas.
A lot like me.