Finding the time

From an email, copied with permission:

. . . I don't get how you possibly have time to do a blog, send little videos to your brother, write songs, watch TV, read books, do lesson plans and teach school. I'm thinking maybe you don't sleep. Anyway, I enjoyed it (the blog) even if I don't get all the creative stuff on it. It got me to thinking, that since every waking hour (except about 5 a week) are already booked for me, maybe I could be more creative if I wrote a blog instead of sleeping. Then I realized I'd just be a bigger witch than I already am if I got less sleep than I do now-so I tossed that idea right out the window and went back to reading more week old e-mails that I should have answered before now. You just keep up the good creative work, and I'll just keep cleaning toilets-or dishes or laundry, or floors-or grocery shopping, or soccer coaching, etc etc etc

My secret is mediocrity. The trick to doing lots of things, I've found, is to not do any of them well.

I'm glad you enjoy the blog. I don't spend much time on it. The video took about 20 minutes, but allowing my brother to one-up me is simply not an option. The other stuff is crammed into my day here and there. For instance, I finally finished reading Waiting for Godot, but I read most of it in the car while waiting for the kids to come out of religious ed (after doing some shopping). I usually write the blog entries at my desk after my school day, when I feel I can't grade another paper and Eldest isn't yet out of track practice. And I'm finally recording music again, but that (usually) starts when the family day is done. They settle down with some TV and I slip away to work on music. It's my toy-train set.

I don't play golf or bowl or watch sports. My kids are old enough to require less time, though I still make it to track meets, read Curious George, or throw a ball now and then. I have a tremendously supportive wife, and we've both made a point of carving out time for each other's creative pursuits. I could be a better dad. I could be a better husband.

But your letter struck a chord because, well, I do feel guilty. Last night I spent a couple of hours working on the drum track for a song I'm recording. Hours. On the drum track. But I enjoyed myself so much that my German/Catholic Pleasure Inhibitor was activated. Someone had to be mad about it: my wife, or my mom, or God, or Captain Karma; someone. Three or four times I came out to collect permission for wasting time. My wife was curled on the couch with Youngest watching Dancing with the Stars, Daughter was cocooned in her room with a book or her guinea pig, and Eldest was working on homework. I probably should have done bedtime - it is well past my turn - but my wife kept saying she didn't mind (because I kept asking), and whatever work I could have been doing for school or for the house will get done another time. I got up early to take the trash out.

I've been stressed, I've felt trapped, and I'll feel stressed and trapped again. Oddly, actively pursuing this stuff has taken time, not given it, but it seems to have brought some balance. The things that worry me still worry me, but they dominate my thinking less. That sounds all Zen-guru-y, but I'm feeling all Zen-guru-y, like I've figured something out for a change. Any second someone will walk in the door with a big problem, or an even bigger problem than that, and all of this could go poof. Someday I'll read this and be embarrassed by my naivety. Probably tomorrow.

Remember, also, that after, what, fifteen years, I'm not directing a play this year. While it seems that should be about extra time - that's two and half hours a day I've gained - it doesn't feel like I've gained much time. Work expands to fill the available time. Generally, I'm here at school anyway. What I have gained is the chance to catch my breath, the ability to focus on teaching, and quite bit of reflection. That doesn't happen a lot, and I'm trying to take advantage of it while I can.

Your letter, though I'm sure was written in fun, seems a little angry, and, judging from the length of this response, really got me thinking. You have faced problems the likes of which I haven't. I suspect that that is a big reason that you are always so remarkable and supportive. I wouldn't wish your troubles on anyone, nor would you, I know. But you still always have a smile and a nice word - always. You certainly have your hands full, and you always juggle with grace.

I bet most people would benefit from actively keeping track of that which they most want to do.