Six: Morning

It's the morning, and I am stuck. I have a score of projects, ideas, and obligations flitting about, momentarily catching my attention, but releasing just as quick. This is one of them, and after every few words, I think of the new game, the music commission, the conference website, the research data, the hobby pc, the other blog, the mastodon bot, the metal logo, the medical ethics course planning, the largely-untouched synths, the fact that many of these require my focus on this or another screen, the fact that many of these require a span of uninterrupted time to progress, the fact that I am eminently interruptible.

But I fear I repeat myself.

It's the morning, and I am sieve. Thoughts don't linger long enough to register and implant. Is this something I've said before? Even the good ones, the ahas, even though they make an impression of, "I'll need to remember that," go. This is doubly frustrating, but the frustration, too, never finds purchase, fortunately and not. Consequently, I never adjust. I continue to rifle through the catalog, unsure what I was looking for, unable to retain anything I find. Start back at the beginning, make no adjustment, hope to do better this time.