I have a confession that will surprise exactly none of you: I spend a lot of my time daydreaming. I have the attention span of a goldfish and want to be entertained at all times (millennials, am I right?), so often I have to entertain myself. In the span of writing the two previous sentences, I had to check all of my social media accounts because I was getting bored of writing. 

My already abysmal concentration has only plummeted recently. Being unable to pay attention in class is nothing new: I have long since accepted the fact that school will never hold my interest. No, the problem is that I can no longer focus on the things I actually like thinking about. That book I'm wanting to write? Yeah, haven't made any progress, or even thought about it, in weeks. Reading about my main man Vincent van Gogh? I've been two chapters into his biography for a month now. I've only worked out twice this month because I keep getting distracted, I am somehow already behind in class when we're only two weeks in (I know I said I've accepted this, and I have, but STILL), and I can't even watch netflix anymore without needing to constantly rewind because I missed half the show because I was thinking about whales again.

My head is even further in the clouds than usual, and it's a little frustrating. I mean, sure, I like thinking about my boyfriend, but do I really need to be doing it all the time? Do I really need to contemplate the life cycles of starfish? Is it useful to imagine conversations that I will literally never have? Why must I spend so much time THINKING ABOUT TREES? No joke y'all, I spent three hours yesterday thinking about trees. Trees. Even I, the person who is emotionally attached to trees, know that's excessive. 

On a serious note, things have been going really good for me lately. What that means is I am completely useless. So useless I had to stop writing this last night because I just couldn't stay on task. I have been trying to be a productive member of society, but all I want to do is bask in how great my life is going (for once, I add under my breath). And the funniest part of all--I can't hear my anxiety anymore. I mean, it's still there--it'll always be there--but it's being drowned out by the cartoon birds singing in my head. 

Aren't we all guilty of this, though? Don't we all have those moments when we are so in love with life that we get distracted from actually participating in it? That's what I'm struggling with now; life is so great that all I want to do is sit around thinking about how great it is instead of going out and making it great. I know that eventually, the pendulum that is my life will start it's downward progress, but until then, is it really so bad that I want to revel in how good things are?

Today, I am going to go work, which I did yesterday but still. I'm going to do some homework. I'm going to do some laundry (hopefully, if the washer's open, because roommates). I'll read some of my van Gogh biography, plot out a little of that book I'm thinking about writing, and stop thinking about whales and starfish and TJ for a bit in order to get things done. I'm going to take a vacation from la la land and re-enter reality. 

Published by Kylee Jackson