It's becoming increasingly difficult to find my balance. There are too many requests and too many deadlines and too many mandates mingling with a selfishness to choose how to divide my time and what to label as Priority 1A. I want to spend hours with fountain pen in hand allowing images to manifest themselves on journal pages through my inked words. I don't care if the end result is of publishing caliber. But the pages remain silent and the ink encapsulated, because it's not to be, at least not today or maybe not even this week, this month. Instead I'm stealing this minute for self-gratification and blogging this single paragraph .... a poor substitute at best.

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