Accomplishment...of sorts

Rambling. That is what I feel like I am doing. Rambling through books, pages,  e-mail, blogs, the Internet. Collecting things to paper the walls of my mind. I'm supposed to be writing and, in a sense, maybe I am. Working things out somewhere around the edges until something clicks into place. I'm not sure what I am looking for. Maybe a distraction from pain. Maybe a secret to life. The secret. But I don't think there are really any secrets to life. It's pretty much all out there in the open, if you really look for it.

But. But what? I'm not sure. My brain has turned off, more or less. I read through books, learning. Slurping it up, hoping to know things that someone else has known a lot longer than I have. Or they've known it more surely than I have. I feel like I have a Teflon brain. Nothing sticks these days. Is it the pain, causing things to slide off before they have a chance to take root? I am getting some work done. Edited a short story manuscript, sent it off to my editor, gotten some cover graphics done for the same person for his book. I started editing one of my novels and worked through several chapters in two books (by the same author) on how to outline a novel. Got all the worksheets and checklists and such from the books loaded into files on the computer for easier use. Lots of typing there, but it did not make my fingers itch to type my own words. Where is this going? I'm not sure.

The weeks are broken up with various activities; Tuesday is friend day, Wednesday a study circle is supposed to happen, Thursday evening a writing group. These things all break my week apart and make it hard for me to focus. I know something is coming up, so I know I will be interrupted and my thought processes disrupted. Getting down to work, sticking with it, is hard to do if I know that something is coming up. My mind jitters around, never landing on one thing. Unfocused because there is that thing waiting around the next hour. Taking two hours at a time to work is not something my mind seems bent on doing. It wants large chunks of time. Huge blocks of non-disturbance to look forward to. Ah, a straight path to the goal. Hours and hours of unbroken stillness in which to frolic and create. Time that spans great distances between now and then, until my mind comes back to the present--emptied and satisfied with an accomplishment of some sort. I don't find that easily, but will not give up my scheduled events--they are important! I need to learn to work between those times and get things done. 

So I play at getting organized. Okay, so it isn't really play, because it does bring organization to the chaos. That's a good thing.