There was a blog entry I started a couple of days ago, based on an over-heard conversation at work. Some co worker talking about hawaii, which led me to a sort of longing reverie about the place.

I'd sort of intended to expand that to a general reverie about tropical locations, both real places, and fanciful versions of a tropical paradise I hold in my head pretty much all the time.

Of course, I got interrupted - by work - before I could even get the thought down; and *poof* the thread was gone.

Such was my week, and my weekend.

If you've ever read Harrison Bergeron, you'll remember Vonnegut's vivid description of a device worn by those of greater-than-average intelligence, the purpose of which was to disrupt thought with random, loud noises played directly into the wearer's ear. In Vonnegut's story, the reason for this was to make everyone truly equal, handicapping anyone with any extra ability (the strong or graceful weighted down and encumbered, those with better eyesight made to wear vision-weakening goggles; those who are specially beautiful must wear some sort of distorting facial appliance).

The images are nightmarish, of course; the social commentary though, is something I found, when I read it as a young teen, to be truly eye-opening (though that's not my point, right this second).

I think of this now, because that's how I've felt these last few weeks. As if some heinous sound is being piped into my skull each and every time I begin to find focus. Each time I seem to find the beat, the path to productivity, some spark of creativity, a virtual mental ball-peen hammer crashes into my temple and wrenches e away. My step falters, I re-adjust, find focus, and address whatever new drama, trauma or emergency this particular hammer represents.

I'm trying to remember the last time I *didn't* have my work phone ring at least four a day on a weekend; I can't recall.

Tonight, after spending my day fighting both real life's fires, and a hundred little issues from work, I find I can't even sleep, though my eyes burn with fatigue. I'm unable to disengage. I've settled fights between by nine-and-fourteen-year-old daughters, tried to make progress against the eternally growing chaos that is my house, ferried children to various social engagements, shopped, and dealt with crashing file servers, users who don't tell me things are broken, but instead try to work around the problem (which, with the kind of people I support, always makes things worse). I've also had the usual pained, whining phone call from my mother, who never goes anywhere or does anything, wondering why I don't remember to call her and tell her when I might be able to come over and bring her fresh treats from WHole Foods.

My eyes burn with fatigue; yet there are ten more things I should be doing before I sleep, none of which are writing.

When I opened my text editor to begin this, it was with the intent of finishing that hawaii entry; the images are gone, though. I cannot conjure the serenity, the calm in the mind's eye that I need to feel the island breeze, to smell the rum, coconut, the warm, sea-salt-sweat smell of a woman beside me. I can describe it because I remember the description, but I can't see it when I close my eyes. All I see are tax forms I need to gather tomorrow and the stacks of paper and laundry and broken this-and-that I need to manage.

I wonder when my life stopped being full of something other than work, and lists of tasks.

I've tried three times now to finish the thought on that last line above; each time, I find I've gotten side tracked. MY mind won't stay in one place long enough to make sense of it; yet I fear closing my eyes for fear I'll lie in the dark, grinding my teeth and wondering what vital task I'm forgetting.

There's a place I need to get back to; I was almost there, a day and a half ago, for a few minutes, when I could remember the sand, sun, sea, teh girl beside me. Even if I can't be there in body, at least for a few minutes, I need my head back there, so I can remember why I do this, why I grind myself down day after day.