Some people write novels in November. I blog shoes. And life.

I bought these shoes so long ago, in a place I used to live, thinking that A. they were a good deal and that B. I would actually wear them.
Yes. I know. I am neither an elderly Grandpa in Miami nor a Chinese factory worker. so, what was I thinking? idk
Today, I am equally confused. Have you ever wanted someone to just TELL you what to do?
I am the TELLER in my house.
Wear this. Eat his. Do that. And then do that. Look, do it like this. Here, let me show you. Wait. We aren’t watching that. We’re watching this, and we’re going here and we’re driving like this, and… you get the picture.
Maybe I don’t want someone to really tell me what to do. I just want them to suggest strongly, and then check up on me afterward. Like school, except without grades.

Here’s the thing. I know I need to finish a few projects and I know I cannot move forward unless I stop getting side-tracked.. but I am so–Look, shiny!–easily distracted, that I need accountability. Not like this guy, though. And this seems a bit too therapeutic for me. Whatever would I bitch about? But something in the middle, like a list of short and long term goals.

Some people have close parents that act as their accountability- keeping things in check, motivating along the way, asking important questions, offering support and guidance. Some have adult children and some have good friends that serve the same purpose.
I’m sort of in the middle of all of that- I’m my own best friend, but I can also ignore myself for hours at a time, so I’m a sucky friend to count on.
I think this calls for some serious butt in the chair time. Forget Miami. Forget the white shoes. I’m staying home.