on calling and excellence

“If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare composed poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, ‘Here lived a great street sweeper, who did his job well.’ “

– Dr. Martin Luther King

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week ends

Monday morning comes uninvited. I groan and grunt, wooing arthritic limbs to motion. Long week ahead, my man, I say to the half-awake face in the mirror. I rub my chin to feel if I need or want a shave. My mind shakes off sleep, boots up and generates a list of things that need my attention in the days ahead: work issues to be resolved, laundry to be sorted, meetings to be organized, people to text or call, new toothbrush to be bought, family errands to run… Okay, God. Me need you.

And then it’s Friday afternoon. I feel a nagging ache on my upper back – definitely from spending too much time hunched over a computer. Note to self: Massage tomorrow. I look at my to-do list and feel good about items I’ve ticked off. Not bad, my man. A sip, maybe two, of now-cold coffee is all that’s left in my maroon mug. My desk is strewn with paper, books, pens, folders. There’s still more to be done… and yet the weekend winks invitingly.

One more email, a deep TGIF sigh, and then I’m yours, Friday.

remember me?

There were at least three instances the past week when I caught myself thinking, Hey, I should blog about this. Which I never did. And now I don’t remember those supposedly bloggable things.

I read that some people, creative folk mainly, keep a notebook and pen handy for capturing good ideas if and when they pop up in the course of the day. Nowadays, there’s the omnipresent cellphone for taking notes whether through texting or, if you’re weird enough, voice recording. I have a PDA phone and yet I’ve allowed many light-bulb thoughts, blog-related or otherwise, to fleet to oblivion. Silly me always believes what the lazy part of me (which is by no means a small part) whispers: Oh, you’ll remember it – if it’s any good, it should be memorable.

But! The issue isn’t whether or not an idea is memorable — the issue is my memory! My brain sometimes goes on auto-snooze mode (much more often now that I’m thirty), and I forget little things, like where I left my house key… whether or not I unplugged the flat iron (don’t tell my housemates!)… where my sign pen or USB thumb drive is…  or, uhm, what is this post about?

Lame, I know. Sorry. Really, this is just me and my valiant attempt at breaking the blogging dryspell… again. But ’tis true: I’m forgetful.

Thanks for not forgetting me though 🙂