Basically, here's the thing:  we have time to do what we want to do.  We do what we need to and want to even if we say, "Oh, I don't have time for that."

But look at that statement.  Is it true?  Did you have time to surf in the Internet for two hours or make a batch of cookies or read a People magazine?  Did you pluck gray hair out of your scalp in front of the mirror for a half hour and then paint your toenails that ghastly shade of orange you love so much?  Did you watch an episode of The Tudors?  Probably you actually did have time to do your French class homework or call your friend or go on an hour walk or clean the catbox.  The point is, you preferred the magazine, the cookies, the Internet, the television, the ridiculous beauty routine.  These activities are what you needed and wanted and the others were things you thought you should do and felt maybe guilted into doing.  But you didn't really want to do them at all.

Maybe you need to change your focus, but at this very moment, you don't want to.  You don't have the time to change.  If you wanted to change, you would.

To me, this makes sense.  There are so many things that we feel compelled to do by obligation, the past, family, history, guilt.  We feel bad when we set up things we don't want to do and then feel bad when we just don't complete them.

Now, I'm not saying we should stop doing all things that are obligations.  Yes, we have to pay taxes (strange how most people find time to do that) and rake the lawn and sweep the porch and call Aunt Minnie.  We would live in solitary caves filled with detritus if we didn't.

But we don't have to fill our days with activities we do for the sole purpose of having done them.  Whew!  Saw that friend.  Cross that off the list.  Man, read that horrible Victorian novel finally.  Glad that's over.  Went to that god-awful business dinner.  Thank god I left at 7.  Finally got to one of those department meetings.  Almost died halfway through.   Sat through that baby shower and played 16 games involving wrapping paper and rattles.  How did I ever have a baby?

There's no joy  at all in doing the thing not wanted, and I am definitely against doing it.  Say no to the thing that will punish you and possibly the people you are with.  Don't do us any favors by just showing up.  Go home and read your magazine, please.

Writing is like that, too.  Sometimes, when I am writing a story, maybe even something I was very much into for the first 20 pages, I realize I'm writing without joy, rapture, or even glee.  I'm writing because--well--I think I have to.  I started this damn story and now I'm going to finish it.  But the truth is, the story is over.  It finished itself off pages ago, and I'm pulling its dead body around the city walls.

So I stop.  I don't want to write it any more.  So I don't.

Every so often, we have to look at our lives and notice what we are doing, how we are filling our days.  Today, for instance, will be about writing, teaching, reading, exercising, and then visiting with a friend who called out of no obligation and with whom I answered with the same energy.  Later, I will be with Michael, in a house we both want to live in, and yes, maybe we will watch an episode of The Tudors.  Or Masterpiece Theater.  Or Good Eats.  But it will be something we want to watch.

Maybe doing what you want is a true luxury, but it can be such a small thing, such a tiny shift that costs nothing and has great rewards.  And in the long run, by you doing what you want, you cause a shift in those around you.  You make it clear who you are and what you want.  Maybe you will hurt people but maybe they will be just as relieved as you are.  Selfish?  Maybe.  But honest.  And true.

Jessica