Deflect/Defect

Character defects.  Anyone in a 12 step program knows this term.  Even before becoming a grateful member of Al-Anon, I had a good idea that my #1 character defect is procrastination.  I'm very good at identifying a task and then delaying the start.  There are all sorts of distractions that I can talk myself into, instead of concentrating on the task at hand.  The balance for me becomes what is procrastination and what may become a justified source of inspiration.

Yesterday's deflection was a lovely yoga class at a Rec Center way closer than the one I ventured to on Thursday.  See?  I am already saving time by not aimlessly driving around this citified desert looking for things to do.  I will return this to center and seek this teacher because I felt great afterwards.  Relaxed and ready to write.  That is the purpose of my trip and nothing like a good, long savasana to motivate me.

My car however had a different idea after class.  With a little help from GPS and my ability to follow directions, we ended up at the winter's farmers market at the Railyard.  This is an urban renewal complex of businesses, offices, event space, art galleries and I'm sure if I had looked there were restaurants and the requisite brewery.  I entered through an Indian market and walked straight through the building, across the tracks into the part where produce is sold.  Little organic carrots, tiny potatoes; I love how delicate and beautiful the fruits of the earth are. What to buy?  What to cook in my mini Casita kitchen?

Apparently nothing!  I only had a whopping $3.00 in my wallet.  How did that happen - where did I spend money and how did I not notice a replenishment was in order?  Did I know and neglect to grab a few bucks?  That would play right into my character defect.  I KNOW I need to do something, but later is good, never has consequences.  Like not being able to buy a $5.00 bag of jujubes.  These little red gems are also called Chinese dates.  Not as dense or toothy as Medjool dates.  Almost an airy texture.  I would have enjoyed some of those in my quinoa breakfast porridge.  Next week.

Lack of funds did not stop me from perusing the stalls at the Indian market.  I fell in love with a blanket jacket that was only a whopping two hundred buckaroos.  Even better, the man at the booth was so interesting, I allowed him to tell me tales of Santa Fe for a half an hour.  Not a waste of time, bit certainly a distraction from writing.  In my own defense, I listen intently to peoples stories.  Hoping a morsel will drop from their lips and into my pen.  Here was a man telling me that desert nights in winter are cold, and his house is only heated by a Vermont Castings Stove, and how he manages to score free firewood in Santa Fe.  Was their a poem hidden in his secret?  Was I just digressing, so I wouldn't have to come back to this lovely casita and BICHOK?*

I meander my way back toward the exit, and am presented with a booth called Dollar Deb's.  There goes my brain again; How can she make her rent and then some selling everything for a dollar?  Books?  Oh, I am weeding through those, they are only a buck, and I might find a good one.  And I do.  It is called The Productivity Planner;  brand new, not written in or dog eared.  I have enough cash to buy it and here is what I truly feel.  The universe has again stepped in and spoken to me.  Stop procrastinating. Stop.  Procrastinating.  Stop!

With scant funds and breakfast a long way off in the rear-view mirror, I do head back to the casita.  I sit on the patio, ensconced by the coyote fence, and I write.  I am a bit off track because I choose not to write for my main project, but rather for a contest sponsored by The Poetry Society of Colorado.  The subject for January is a woman's skin and I am trying to correlate the smoothness of the interior casita walls with how a woman's skin feels.  Make magical metaphorical comparisons that other people might understand.  I am fascinated by these walls, and find myself touching them with wonder.  How did they get this slick?  Glasslike.  Running my hand along the walls is like touching freshly Zambonied ice in the rink.  I know there is a poem in this, I just need to coax it out of my mind and into my pen and onto my paper.

Last night I went to bed with a plan to wake up, caffeinate and write until about 11:30.  Then I could go to a meeting and see some sights.  Now at about a quarter after eight, with my blog post under my belt, two cuppas in, I want to take a walk.  It is the first blue sky, sunny day since my arrival.  I know I will see or even smell  (Bakery?  Coffee shop?) something, anything to spark my creativity.  I can justify not writing from here until next Tuesday.

Here is my challenge.  Can I turn my defect of procrastination into an asset?  Is it possible to take a negative connotation and find positivity in the roots?  I want to finish this project.  I need to finish this project.  But this project will only be finished if I work on it.

Time to Write,

Jane

*BICHOK - Butt in chair hands on keyboard