These days I have to work 8 hours a day. I get an hour for lunch. I spend an hour in transit. If I cook or exercise, that takes time. I have to sleep at least 7-8 hours or else my health suffers and I can’t focus or my head hurts more than it usually does. I try to stuff an hour or 30 minutes in there to relax and do nothing so I don’t go insane. Then I try to write quality blog entries, because I hate to shit out a post for the sake of posting. The cats want to play with me and the dishes need to be washed or else that gross black mold starts to grow on the oatmeal bowls. I try to keep up a social life, so I watch bad TV shows with friends or go to costume parties, but part of me feels bad that I am not doing all those other things I should be doing. I’d like to take tae kwon do or a professional Pilates class or learn piano. Some day I’d like to write another book. I like to read the blogs. And Dear God in heaven, I try to keep up with my email.

Sometimes my head hurts and I have to lie down and forget about all the stuff I wanted to do.

Sometimes I wish I just lived under a rock and didn’t have to do anything or have any responsibilities. But I know that would be unsatisfying too, because not having a purpose in life or things to do is just as bad as having too much to do.

There is only so much time. There is only so long I will be alive. There is so much I want to do. But I can’t make it all fit, like I’m trying to close a suitcase stuffed with too many clothes. I can sit on it and yank at the zipper, but there’s just too much crap in the carry-on. So I have to pick and choose what goes in there, but I find myself missing all the things that don’t make it.

I look back on high school and wish I could get all that time back, or at least appreciate how valuable it was. Because these days I’m the one saying, “I don’t have enough time.”