Sunday, January 12, 2014

I'm Not Worthy

"I choose to see this award, not as a reward for past achievements," as usual after watching awards shows, I'm practicing my acceptance speech, "but as a goad and an obligation to even higher standards in the future."

The laundry still isn't put away, the catbox uncleaned, the bathroom, while not filthy, needs a good wipedown, and I'm about 4000 words into a new project that the muse has yet to visit.

I walk from room to room, tidying up, putting things away (doesn't have to be perfect, just has to be better than it was when I started), shutting cabinets, starting the dishwasher. I imagine a tux, the heft of a statue in my hand, accolades, cashed checks, artistic achievement before my peers, awards, silly things, and I know the only thing to do is to keep calling out my lesser desires, and keep trying to make it a little better, just a little, than when I started.

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