Little Scraps of Attention

Last month, dimes wanted me to find them. Everywhere I went I picked up a dime. A sign I'm guessing. This month it's little scraps of paper in suitcases, jackets. backpacks, and bulletin boards all wanting to be found and every piece with a note needing to be read right then.



Some of the scraps were in folders neatly labeled "Once," "Ever," and the biggest scrapper, by my side for almost twenty years--all swirling around for my attention. "Here! Now!" they tug. I excitedly read and remember them, plot and imagine them. . .

I haven't been very happy lately, blamed on my annual bout of SAD, but now I think it's ideas having mid-life crises wondering what will ever become of them. Will I ever be a movie? A book? A phenomenon? I'm having a mid-life crisis of my own. Will I ever get a dog? Find the stability to create and finish? Remember everyone in my Nobel speech? I really believe I will and that's what  keeps me going until the big announcement in the form of a picture or possibly a link.


Two weeks seems about right to fix every little thing.

Stabilty

Stability is not "limited or no connectivity." Stability is a long walk iwth a friend. At this moment, battling the worst case of SAD ever, stability feels like trying to spot the fart in a tornado.

Tomorrow, the sun shines and maybe me.