My usual New Year's resolution is to make no New Year's resolutions, or at least none that require me to do make an effort. In the distant past I would resolve to make drastic changes in my character; for instance, to always be on time. (Given that today is January 26 and I am only just considering New Year's resolutions, it is safe to call that one a failure.) I learned to reach for lower-hanging fruit. I'm happy to resolve, say, to read more books. Piece of cake. My sister once resolved to drink more water. We were at a family New Year's Eve dinner in Santa Barbara, going round the table sharing our resolutions, and that was hers. I took note and used it the following year. It must have worked, because not long afterward my mother complimented my husband and me. "I really admire how much water you drink," she told us. We thanked her. Another piece of cake, so to speak. (Coffee with that?)
But this year, I'm tempted to try again, and try harder (even if later). It is not exactly an attempt at a character overhaul; it is more a matter of changing work habits. I am still thinking back to my wonderful writing residency at the Wassaic Project in November [https://transatlantictravails.blogspot.com/2021/11/from-window-number-3-to-studio-number-6.html] and comprehending how special was the ability--the mandate--to focus on just one thing, the writing project I've titled Asking After Alice. Sticking to one thing is very much not my normal life. It is not the normal life of any adult that I know. Normal life for me involves constant switching between work, household management, chores, parenting, pet-owning, writing, and leisure, with multiple items under each of those headings. I may be forgetting something. Self-care? Yes, that's it. Or maybe self-care is filed under 'leisure'.
I don't want to give up any of it (well, maybe cleaning the cat litter). Even doing the washing up is kind of fun, since we all do it together, minus the person whose night it was to cook the meal. (It turns out, by the way, that I have been doing the dishes wrong, all wrong, according to my children. They are the experts. I don't argue.)
But I yearn toward time management solutions. I no more than start one task than my phone alarm tells me it is time to begin another. I scribbled down little lists and schedules every day. By the time I've written one out, I am already off-course, although I will nonetheless do it again tomorrow a true expression of hope triumphing over experience. Sticking to a schedule is not one of my skills. I feel swamped by time and its passage, am surprised at the end of each and every day how little of it I have captured. And, too, I am surprised at how surprised I am.
I have studied various time-management tricks and try to perform them, like our dog learning to roll over to earn treats. But I get endlessly distracted. Just now, in the midst of a sentence, I found myself peering out the window to watch a truck deposit a dumpster across the street (a complicated maneuver with all the snow).
My latest effort is inspired by author Karma Brown's The 4% Fix. Ms. Brown points out that one hour is 4% of a day. This feat of calculation is not the main thrust of Brown's book, which instead is about what can be accomplished by putting that hour to work (writing a book, for instance). But the bigger takeaway for me was something else to do with 'four': the focused four. Choose 4 tasks a day to accomplish, Brown advises. Focus. She echoes Susan, my supervisor and friend, whose mantra to her students is 'Focus and Finish'.
I can do that, I thought. Four tasks. How difficult can it be to get four things done in a day? I found a tiny notepad in which to pen my four daily tasks. But, like time, I find it difficult to manage. Maybe I needed more space. A bigger notepad. A longer day.
And there is the rub. Or as my high-school French teacher used to say: voilà le hic. You just get those 24 hours. No more.
How to cultivate a shorter focal length? A higher resolution? To focus and finish. To bring the lessons of the residency back here to my residence. But first, I think, a quick game of Wordle. And then a fresh cup of tea, if the cat allows me access to the water jug.
What was I saying? Oh, right. Right. Yes. Focus and fi
Wordle 220 4/6
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PS Favorite Twitter catch from last week: @alexhanna writes "I have a feeling the next variant will be transmissible via Zoom." Response from @Barmijo: "Well Teams will still be safe. Nothing transmits well via Teams." That is my experience too--apologies to friends and family who work for Microsoft! :)
