No flow

It's hard to find time to write in the midst of holiday prep. Not that I've done much holiday prep. But I've had very good intentions that seem to be taking up an inordinate amount of time. I believe, but cannot confirm, that Carl and I will go choose a Christmas tree in a few short moments.

That is the plan.

Of course, we have planned on numerous other occasions to do so, without success. And it's been on my own to-do list for weeks. Without success. In December, I feel such a sense of accomplishment when I slog through the molasses of holiday life to finish even the smallest of tasks. Good thing molasses is sweet. Sort of.

I do love Advent and Christmas. I love the waiting part, even though I'm not particularly adept at waiting. In fact, I'm darn lousy at it. While I have learned patience at the knees of master teachers (my children, who have required my continuous acquisition of patience for almost 20 years now), unless I have to be patient, I am not.

Waiting for the bar exam results, again almost 20 years ago now, was actually agony spread across weeks. Even though I knew the results wouldn't be coming until October or so, each day I woke thinking "Today could be the day!" Even while working, part of my mind would be on that day's mail arrival. Even the evening wasn't a relief, as I'd just start to think about the next day's mail.

Perhaps I'm a bit of an obsessive person.

Anyway, back to waiting. I enjoy some parts of it. I love anticipation. That sort of shivery excitement that's not just all fun, but requires you to give something in return. An emotional investment of some sort, or thoughtful thinking.

Would that be as opposed to unthoughtful thinking?

OK. True confessions. It's now several hours later. We do, indeed, have a tree dripping in the front porch. And, while I'm pleased that the waiting for tree is over, I am not pleased that I had to interrupt writing to make it so. I am terrible at making a seamless transition back into whatever it was that I was saying. Because of that, I have to announce that I've been gone and come back. Otherwise, it feels to me like I'm not telling the truth, somehow. And I'm sure that readers will be able to tell, even if I don't.

But, by the time I've done that, it's impossible for me to get back to where I was. Anticipating. Enjoying something that's hard. Sigh. It's gone now. And none of this is what I'd planned on writing about, which would be that little Drudge Report on the NYTimes holding back on a negative McCain story. Maybe tomorrow.

Flow is such an interesting concept. Some people are so accomplished at starting and stopping that they do not mind interruptions. Others of us need oceans of time to float our rafts of thought down. If deprived, the output becomes a bit bumpy for all concerned.

I'm done now. The ride's a bit too bumpy for me. We'll try again tomorrow.

Liz :-)