i could stop. i could. i don't deliberately fill up my weekends. i don't really run by a schedule, but the things that need to be done slip into the slots afforded them by the things that have times set by others. this is not my doing. it is not my fault that by friday morning, the free time available to me for the weekend has dwindled to nothing, and i stand in the doorway feeling like crying and hesitating to leave, forestalling the moment when i commit myself to the next 72 hours. tomorrow, unless i oversleep, i will leave the house at 9am and not return until well after 11. sunday if i am lucky and don't oversleep, i will have 4 hours of awake time at home to get ready for the week before leaving and not returning until 11 or midnight. i do this to myself. i do, but it still makes me want to cry.
when am i supposed to put up my collection of interesting advertisements and images? when am i going to draw all the functional products i wish the world had created already? when am i going to get my facebook project done or help with websites or finish stories or organize my apartment or learn about dolphins or persians or languages? i just need to stop doing things so i can accrue some time to do things. it never stops; it just changes.
okay. sorry. i'm done complaining.
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