The Monkey on the Back called Time

Yeah. TIme is the killer. Even when conscientious, it forces one to compete with priorities. It gnaws at one’s feet. I swear at it as if it is human, a bizarre anthropomorphic ritual. At times, I feel despondent.

April promises to be a good month but I wont have time to do everything I want. I have a new job within my company, which is better for free time, but it is a very good job (as day jobs goes) and I have to perform with a modicum of continuous brilliance to make the powers to be feel justified in allowing me to permanently transfer to Melbourne.

What I want (dare I say need) to also do is: have a semblance of a family life with the two most important people in my life; continue to ply my editorial/publishing skills for IFWG Publishing, which is just now bearing the first harvest of all our efforts over the last quarter; finish my Evyntyde short story anthology, which I am keen on progressing, finish my YA novel in time for the Text YA Contest – have to say, this goal is REAL important to me; and continue refining/redefining my novels and complete my next one. Whew. Lots and lots of work.

Panic aside, it is a case of prioritization, and chugging along, achieving one milestone at a time.

Just venting my spleen folks. It helps to sometimes unload on one’s friends.

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