I see a lot of posts about bucket lists and goals…I’ve always been an odd one out in these areas. You can imagine the challenges for me in the workplace and in raising a family…hell, Life for that matter.
I don’t really have a bucket list. I never have. I don’t want one. It makes me too anxious. Planning and goals are negatives for me. They make me feel trapped. I don’t know if there is a phobia named for this weird thinking/fear. Maybe a stray vein of claustrophobia…or agoraphobia.
I am the opposite of competitive. Games don’t matter to me. Neither do power plays or politics or bureaucracies. Rules, fences, boundaries…not really considered the right way to go to my temperament…which is fueled by fringes/margins/rebellions.
I do have daily things I like to get done, though. Reading projects. (Reading is not entertainment for me.) A feeling of productivity is good, and creativity, but only in small doses for me.
Having a big mountain to climb is not my thing. I don’t care about summits. I like journeys. Impromptu things found “along the way”. I use my blogs to write at least 1000 words a day on any number of topics. Sometimes it’s fiction; other times poetry; and sometimes it’s just essay work or miscellany. This keeps me sane.
The blogs are my “daily journals” my “morning pages” (ref. Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way). This blog is the primary one I write on, though…
Links to my other blogs are here: