Too Many Balls

On a side note : I’ve posted about balls before … and am starting to fear that a trend may be developing …

I don’t know if I’m overly tired, burnt out, suffering from serve writers block or simply at the end of my mental capacity rope … but regardless … I think I have too many balls in the air right now to function like a normal human being.  So, yeah, I’m going to bitch for a brief moment and let it dangle in the air of this blog forever …

Let me start off by telling you … I put regular gas in my car today.  No big deal, right?  Except, my car that takes PREMIUM gas.  I’ve not bought regular gas in … oh … 5 years?  My past car and current … both premium … and yet, today I suddenly forgot.  That’s where I’m at … really normal, totally common sense, everyday things fail to register with me.  And I stood there like a complete asshole watching the low-octane stuff flood my tank thinking, oh shit, this isn’t right.  Did I do anything about it?  No.  I just watched it happen and shook my head at my own stupidity.

Normally, I love the holidays.  I love seeing my family, I love baking cookies and wrapping presents and all that other mid-winter brouhaha.  This year … not so much.  I feel stressed even thinking about it.  I tried (tried being the key word) to bake sugar cookies tonight.  I laid everything out … the kitchen was “just so” … I was maybe even a little excited.  I cut those damn cookies into stars and snowflakes and trees … and then once they made it into the oven … they just seriously EXPLODED.  I’ve never seen cookies blow up like that … my God, they were like dough balloons.  My pretty little cookies turned into gobs of half-baked disasters and again … I just watched it happen totally useless to fix it.   So that, along with the gas, was a true WTF moment.

I looked at Mark and I just sighed — because really, what else could I offer him?  Sorry I possibly ruined the car and Christmas in the span of 12 hours?

He gave me a hug, probably thinking I’d gone off the wall, and tried to tell me it was fine.  Actually, no, he tried to recut the cookies post apocalypse — and looked really wounded when I said “that was a good try, honey.”  Which, of course, just make me feel more like an asshole because I wasn’t one enough already.  But, frankly, the redo wasn’t so much helpful as hysterical.

Here is the only reasonable conclusion I can draw … I have to many things bouncing around right now to do any one of them really well.  For a multi-tasker like myself … that’s a big pill to swallow.

My mind looks something like this:

writing—>holidays—>holidays—>real job—>real job—>writing—>writing—>holidays … lather, rinse, repeat.

When I try to think anything exclusively, everything else is vying for my attention.  I need to get better at this.  But until then … I have to drop some balls.

Christmas rant over.