Every day I pass ‘The Good Fork’, a restaurant in my neighborhood that makes the halfway point between my home and my studio. Every Monday it is closed. I seemingly mark the passage of time by how fast Mondays come and I know the restaurant is closed. Sometimes I cannot believe it’s another Monday, as it just was Monday, they come like the birds I see flying rapidly overhead and continuing on their way.
I never get enough done in a day. I never finish my to do lists. I never seem to be able to fit each of my charges into a nook of the 720 minutes or so I spend working. This forces me to believe that this is how life will continue to be… an continuous unfinishable stream of minutes for me. This then prompts me to re-evaluate how I spend these minutes. I know I screw around sometimes. I know I mistakingly spend hours on things I know I don’t want to make or care about, yet do so anyway. (a huge boxy shapeless sweatshirt that looks horrible)… Facebook…. or simply working in lieu of playing…wasting all of my minutes on tedium.
What then, should I fill my day with, or should you fill yours with? I need to heavily filter my goals and crop the big picture into one that will be more realizable.
I want to write and publish a book, yet I never find time. I want to make films, yet the same excuse reigns. I want to travel and act and play drums and make gorgeous clothing and go camping and own and operate a restaurant….and ….and…. These things are multi-faceted in and of themselves and I have to come realize that Desira Pesta is too ambitious, too much of a dreamer, and too little of a planner. organizer, and pragmatist in her (my) daily life. I would like this to change and I implore you to see what ways you avoid your goals by simply putting too much on your plate. Then again, maybe you don’t do that. Well, then, sit down, and organize a list of what you want to do and see if you’re doing it. How’s that? Anyway. Aging. I started writing with the intention of making a melodrama of an essay about the dying years of human dreams and lost loves and triumphs… Instead, I will continue and maybe end with the realization I came up with– that I need to fill each day with the tasks that aid in completing my goals. Another goal is to get in shape, yet everyday I wake up and drink 64 ounces of coffee and eat and find my back too sore from my horrible Ikea bed to do it. I have had tremendous boughts of strong-willed exercising in my past. I know I can do it. I used to be able to do twenty pullups with my spaghetti arms, swim four laps of butterfly in a little over a minute, and run several miles nonstop. Now… I can hardly get up the stairs to my studio without huffing and puffing. When will I find the time? It’s time to re-evaluate what’s reallly imporrrrtant. I know exercise and a healthy heart is, yet I think I am too stressed out and overworked that I can’t seem to find the energy to expend more energy. bad. I don’t want to shrivel up. I still stretch and do yoga every day, yet I’m like a caged puppy. I need to run like horse because horses run and desiras run. I think I drank too much coffee because now I’m just getting weird.
Anyway, aging….. Nicole Kidman is 42 and already her face has been picked, hoed, gardened, swept, and expanded . Geez. I was watching To Die For, the Gus Van Sant directed film, last night and could not get over that Kidman and the other actors did not have bleached teeth. Seriously, everyone had somewhat yellowed, or should I say, natural, teeth. Everyone looked normal, like everyday people. I watched Margot at the Wedding a few months ago, which Kidman also starred in, and winced everytime she had a closeup. Her face is a plasticine dream with ivories to match. She’s a gorgeous woman, many women in Hollywood obviously are, why then, do they need to go ahead and backhoe their faces so young?