I figured out what I am lacking.

It is what always comes to me too late. When the hours are stretched before me and it seems like there are so many of them, then suddenly, it’s 2:15 again and my time is up. The hard stop. The litany of things undone comes crashing on my head like an impatient slap. All the things i accomplished today were mere tasks, ticks off a list. What happened to the REAL in this day? The things that matter. The things that matter to me, at least: the time to think, to write all the things i wanted to write, the thoughts that bang around inside my head like a stuck pinball. Suddenly it’s time to go. and the TIME the time the time is gone. The tasks are done, but the golden time to write is gone.

One day I will put the Brainspace first. I will ignore the unimportant mentalities of my paid occupation that siphon off time that deserves better. I will ignore the tasks. I will let my kids come home to a dirty house with dishes in the sink and beds unmade, groceries un-bought, dogs unfed, papers unsigned, errands un-run. We will order food that comes delivered and eat off paper plates and…

wait… we sometimes do that anyway because of the insanity of their baseball schedule x3. Gee. my poetic rant is suddenly reduced to a mockery. where was I?

Oh, I do try! So many times I sit to write, a brilliant thought about to overflow onto the tapping keys and just as I begin: time. It’s already time to drive to get the kids from school. Why don’t I sit and write first thing in the morning? Because all my creative thoughts sleep until the afternoon light is just right. And then inevitably there is no time left. What I wouldn’t give for a better internal factory. Or at least a more time-space-convenient internal factory. I have so much to say. Again. And Again it never lands on the page. It stays in my head. The pinball is stuck. Again.

Time disappeared.  It’s time to go.  And the space dissolves.

Hijacked.