Productivity

I got a lot done this summer. I had so much to do that I pretty much lived off my lists of priorities and scheduled trip times, and did very little else. Including blogging. That may change... I may blog a bit more, because it does help me to organize my thoughts and put down markers for where we are and where we need to be, but these posts won't necessarily be profound.

My three trips this summer were all combinations of business and pleasure: The trip to the Rocky Mountains with Madison in late June, then the 4-day-trip to PA-NYC-Albany that was meant to be 6 days but was cut off by Madison getting sick, and then two days this past weekend to Malone, NY to see the Almanzo Wilder Homestead. (Full KOA review here.)

On Thursday night, David and I launched the trip to Malone with the Rush concert in Syracuse at the New York State Fair, leaving the girls in a nearby hotel room (a first!) while we were at the concert.

The concert was so profoundly good that it kicked me into thinking seriously about excellence: specifically, about how pretty much everyone (except for you, of course) lacks standards of excellence, and how very much the world sucks as a result. It didn't help that the Wilder Homestead and Malone NY in general, which we visited the next day, were both characterized by having a lot of potential but falling far short of the mark. Damn it, just a bit of extra thought and effort by a couple of interested people would have made all the difference. But no.

It has been about 16 years since I last saw Rush, and I was staggered at how good they were. I was also staggered at how old I am, and how it's all flown past. One of the songs they played was "Time Stand Still," which they released in 1987, right when I started listening to them...when they were (gasp) in their mid-30s. I was hard-pressed not to burst into tears right there in the middle of the concert.

And there those three nice, smart, regular guys are now, 23 years later, more at the top of their game than ever. It's as though they've been practicing for all those years rather than resting on their laurels. I was really happy for them. They seem to be mostly living the life they deserve to live; they've navigated the vicissitudes of life and stardom very successfully. I want to be as good as they are, at something. I know I won't be. I can try, though. I can work like hell.

OK, I DO work like hell, let me not be over-dramatic.

I came home from the trip pretty cranky at the rest of the world for not caring about productivity, about creativity, about getting as close to perfection as possible. I'm different, I think to myself. I must be different, because I'm cranky about the lazy people who should be making the world a better place but aren't. But just because I'm working like hell doesn't mean I'm getting done what I need to, or what is best to. This feeling is reinforced by days like yesterday, wherein I accomplished nothing of what I meant to, except fretting and fussing for five hours over the damned KOA Wilder House review. Was I achieving excellence? No. I achieved a so-so review of a so-so place, and six loads of laundry. I know when I count the actual loads of laundry as an accomplishment, that's really scraping for something positive to say.

So, okay, I tell myself. Get a grip. One can't be constantly in achievement mode every minute of every day.

Yeah, but what if the next 16 years blows by in the blink of an eye like the last 16...as I know they will. What then? What if I don't spend my 40s in constant production mode? What if I'm 57, and the kids have already graduated college, and I look back at...not much?

Huh. The first sentence of this blog post talks about how I did indeed get a lot done this summer, and here I wind it up worrying about lack of accomplishment.

Maybe what I'm worrying about is lack of *important* accomplishment. Sure, lots of the stuff I am trying to do is about making a difference in the culture in some small or large positive way. And, I want to make money, of course. But I can't stand the idea of looking back on another 16 years and experiencing regret over how I spent my time.

At least, the girls are with me instead of in school, and are happy and thriving. I can't say I have a single regret there. I get an extra 14,400 hours with them, apiece, over the course of their school years. Knowing that, how can I possibly look back with regret? Right? Do I hear an Amen? Or at least a "go to bed, Deb, school starts tomorrow and you're up way past your bedtime"?

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UPDATE: After writing this rambling, not-very-coherent and self-indulgent post (sorry for that), I went to bed and had bad dreams about missing out on important things (like forgetting to give water to a dog I was supposed to be taking care of) because of being caught up in details. And, worst, I was equally concerned with getting away with it (not being sent to jail) as in helping the poor dehydrated dog get the medical attention it needed. Yikes.