Death by Optimism

I am so positive it's killing me. No, really. I believe that I will always have more time, perform more perfectly, make changes more easily, and basically transform myself into the best me. Even when I break things down into simple goals and pursue them for teeny tiny short periods of time, I fail. Because I believe I am way more productive, focused, and busy than I actually am.
So here's to a super duper reality check.
Writing only happens if you set aside time and don't find one million other legitimate things to do.
Being prepared for things, like teaching classes with A PLAN instead of winging it, knowing what I'm cooking for dinner, and having a list to shop by MAKE MY LIFE BETTER. But for some reason, that reward isn't enough for me to be prepared more than a few times a week.
Watching TV is DEATH. Super waste of time. At least until Parenthood comes back on. Or I figure out a way to download So You Think You Can Dance. Because that's life-giving TV right there.
Believing that half an hour is not enough time to accomplish something is stupid and lazy. I can get a lot of stuff done in five minutes. I just have to start. Like this post. I started it. (Finishing is still up in the air.)
So I want to begin to operate within the boundaries of my limitations instead of somehow tricking myself into imagining they don't exist. I'm not a loser, just a procrastinator with a generous imagination. Time to reign in the fantasy and GET. TO. WORK.

Look at that. I finished something. 
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