Art and time.

I am so stinking busy all the time. No wonder I'm also always so tired. I think I read far too many comic books growing up because I swear I have super powers to rival Super(Duper)Man. As I grow older I become less and less sure of my super-poweredness. I get home most nights late and collapse too tired to even eat. So on top of being tired I'm also hungry. All the time. Aaand I never seem to have time to go shopping so all I have in the house is oatmeal and spaghetti. Yum. I wish that I could spend forty uninterrupted hours working on art. I sure do wish but wishes are like ... well ... wishes. Or something. Basically wishing something doesn't make it true. I wish I had a million bucks but I don't. I have twenty. I think. See? That's what wishing gets you. $999980.00 shy of a million. For the math-challenged among you, that ain't even close. So, I have two columns. My wishes and my haves. I wish I could spend forty hours a week working on art. I don't. What I have is time between work and passing out late at night. During those twilight-drenched few hours of near total exhaustion, I have to try and be talented and maybe even brilliant. Not happening. This, my children, is life. Deal with it. I have. Well ... I'm working on it.

It's Friday. Which for many people means a weekend off work. Not me. (See a pattern emerging here?) I work six to seven days a week. I get Christmas and Thanksgiving off. If I'm good. Which ain't often. During my "off hours" I need to mow, fix my roof (Joy!), attend a benefit and maybe, just maybe get some food in the house.

What in the world am I going on and on about? What is the point? The point is that it doesn't look like I'll be able to make the time to take on some jobs (art-stuff) that I'd like to.

Ain't that a bummer? Whatever. Things are what they are and maaaybe it's all for the best? I'd like to think so anyway.

I need more coffee. I need my computer fixed. I need sleep and I need about eight more hours in the average day. Right now, I settle for that coffee.