P is for Planner

 August 1 was Planner Day, a day I celebrate every day. 

I love planners. Although traditional organizational wisdom often dictates that one is sufficient, I've never found that to be the case. I have, in fact, adopted a "more the merrier" approach when it comes to planners, pressing this tool into service in multiple ways.

I got two planners for my birthday -- two copies of the exact same one -- just as I had requested. These are my favorite go-to planners, a marvelous undated version that allows me to corral my lists, priorities and appointments all onto a single page. When I discovered that the site where I purchased them no longer had them, I ordered three from Amazon, bringing my total of planners-in-waiting to five. 

Silly? Maybe. But when you find a planner that suits your purpose, it's hard to change to another one. Unfortunately, this is exactly what happens each year when those in charge of designing these life management tools decide to change things up.

In the past, I've had a work planner and a home planner. I've used planners to keep track of my writing goals and progress and I've used some with particularly generously sized blocks to plan everything from lessons to books. I've used them for goal-setting and, of course, keeping track of appointments. 

I'm definitely not a planner snob. Though my day-to-day planner is Kate Spade, my writing planner was from the dollar store. 

Was? Yep, was. It's a school-year planner and at the end of July, I reached the last page. I tore through the drawer where I keep all of my planners and notebooks-in-progress, certain I had something that would fill the void. 

I did not. Nothing in the form of a planner, at least. 

Back to the drawing board.  

Years ago, inspired by an article I read in The Writer, I used something called a "treadmill journal" -- a notebook pressed into service for recording writing progress. I used it to track time spent writing and to make little notes about where to pick up when I returned to my work. Having the planner on hand, I'd used it for this purpose, each day represented by its own square that reminded me that writing was supposed to be a daily occurrence.

Until I ran out of squares. 

I quickly pressed a small notebook into service, giving me more space for the "journal" aspect, and I quite like the approach. Unless I get waylaid by a pretty planner (a character flaw of mine, as you've probably already deduced), I think I'll stick with the notebook.

While many people take planners for granted, I've discovered that I'm not alone in my love of them, or in the particular pleasure I take in using them in precise ways. Each fall, I require my freshmen to get a planner, leaving color, size, form, and details to them. Many of my students have one before I make the assignment, and some fill them with beautiful words and designs, using color-coding and artful calligraphy. Others scrawl abbreviated reminders in the squares, while their peers tap screens and type dates into their electronic versions. 

The perfect planner offers an implicit promise of organization and time management to its user, though it bears none of the effort in keeping this promise beyond offering up structured white space in which to make this possible. It is this promise, at least in part, along with the hope it brings, that draws us to the  planner aisle and sends some of us home with multiple copies of what is, for many others, a mere practicality. The right planner gives us a sense of control, inspiring confidence in our own ability to get things done or, at the very least, keep track of things.

No wonder someone decided to dedicate a day to planners. And no wonder some of us enthuse about them for much longer.

Time to Think About Time

Pixabay

One afternoon a few weeks back, I hit the wall. Hard. I wasn't entirely surprised as I'd been zooming toward it at full speed for quite some time. Arriving home after teaching, I made myself a sandwich and settled down to take a little break before digging into writing and planning and everything else on my to do list.

And I got up two hours later.

That same morning, I'd been talking with my students about the evils of "should," so I won't go into what I should or should not have done. I just knew I was nursing a headache and there was not a single thing on my to-do list that held any appeal whatsoever, so a break seemed like the reset I needed. 

When I re-joined the world after lunch and a nap, my motivation was still at a low ebb, but my headache had subsided. Slowly, I baby-stepped my way back into my day and, more rested, I actually managed to get a few things accomplished. My day ended much later than I'd anticipated, but that flexibility is one of the wonderful advantages of working from home. 

Or is it?

That's what I tell myself when I take a break mid-afternoon, then work until 9 PM to make up for it. Maybe, though, I should be asking myself why I need a mid-afternoon break so badly that it turns into a two-hour nap.

Last Friday, I wrote about a book I'm reading called Time Smart. I flew through the early pages but, as I continue on, I've begun savoring it, pausing here and there to let the information about time poverty and time affluence sink in. Some of the strategies are things I already do, as are some of the mindsets. Others lead me to step back and consider -- and sometimes re-consider -- not only my schedule but also the way I look at time.

Ironically, I'm reading this book because I discovered it right around the time I'd promised myself to make more time to read for fun. This effort was part of a larger goal to restore some balance to a schedule that leads me to (figuratively) run into walls and (literally) nap for two hours. Though I know (and preach) that self-care is important, experiencing the sense of having more time when I create leisure time is a whole different feeling. 

Paying closer attention to how I use my time has led me to the realization that even my leisure time is often spent in pursuits I'd describe as productive more than relaxing. Although part of that is simply how I'm wired, it also explains why I (figuratively) hit the wall more often than I'd like. 

It's fascinating, this consideration of time -- something both finite and elastic. My hope is that actively contemplating both time itself and how I spend it will lead me to spend my time more wisely.

And keep me from crashing into walls -- literally and figuratively.

Examining the Year of No

Pixabay

I am on vacation this week and, in the spirit of my "year of no," I made sure to keep plenty of open space in my week. There are a number of writing projects I'd like to work on and, when I have time off from school, I flip the switch, so to speak, to make writing my first priority. I have a few household projects in mind as well, and before I even started a written list, it was clear that my list was longer than the time I have available.

Nothing new there.

So, I opted to do something I have difficulty doing: I protected my time. Monday and Friday? Nothing on the schedule. To be honest, this was to offset not one, but two necessary appointments on  Wednesday afternoon (physical and haircut). Thursday morning, I meet with my writing partner, leaving Thursday afternoon free. Tomorrow morning, I opted for pampering over a blank schedule, and I'm going for a massage.

That left me all day Monday, Tuesday afternoon, Wednesday morning (except for the charity pick-up I set up, but they'll come to me), Thursday afternoon and all day Friday...plus the weekend. I have a few things to grade, but that schedule seemed to leave plenty of time for writing, with some extra goofing off time available and a chance to spend some time with my dad.

Then, Saturday night, our dryer went on strike. I dutifully called the dryer repairman, who could come Tuesday afternoon. I was elated! Visions of lugging wet towels to the laudromat vanished, along with a chunk of my Tuesday. No problem, I reassured myself. That'll keep you in the house, where you can get things done.

Next, I opened an email from a friend who was going to be in town this week. Was I free Thursday afternoon?

Yes! I am! Can't wait to see you! (And now I have to make sure my proposal is due before we meet!)

You see where this is going?

Overall, I'm doing well in my year of no. The problem (if I can even call it that) arises when I don't want to say no. I want my dryer fixed. I want to see my friend.

But I also want to write and read and put my house in order. Literally. And, oh, there are those papers to grade....

The thing is, my year of no is turning out just as I hoped it would, albeit with a few complications. The purpose of saying no was not to become a hermit, a couch potato or even a writer who created until she dropped. The purpose of saying no was to free up time for the things that matter.

And so far, with few exceptions, it's working out just fine.

Geralt via Pixabay

Friday Feature: Time to Waste Some Time

The first year after I retired, I had nothing but time. My schedule, for the first time in my adult life, was of my own making.

A year later, I started teaching again and, in what now seems like the blink of an eye, my hours filled rapidly. Because I enjoy what I do, work quickly -- and frequently -- bled into the evenings and weekends.

Although I'm getting better at reclaiming evenings and weekends, I still struggle sometimes with the sense that I should be doing something more useful with my time.

In her blog in Success, Megan Nicole O'Neal reassures me that I'm not alone. She didn't write it just for me of course, but for all the adults who feel we need to milk every minute of every day.

Maybe, just maybe, we don't. Or, as O'Neal puts it, "...even the most determined flame can’t survive without oxygen."

Remember to waste a little time, for your own good. And, if you see me, remind me to practice what I preach.

Committed Time

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

Today, I am talking to the students in my first year seminar about time management. The reading they did for today's class focused on three categories of items to be scheduled: committed time, maintenance time and discretionary time. Their book had a whole list of items that fit into each category, but I'm more interested in how they would categorize each of the important things in their lives.

How we classify what matters to us is often the first step in determining what makes it onto the schedule and what doesn't. What makes it onto the schedule determines not only what we accomplish, but also whether we're reaching toward our goals or someone else's.

No matter how busy I am, blogging always makes it onto the schedule. I'm still not sure why this is, but I know my blogs matter to me because I consistently place them above other things on my priority list. From time to time, I re-evaluate the schedule: two blogs a week here (plus a Friday Feature), two blogs at Organizing by STYLE and one at CatholicMom.com, often a reprint of something that already appeared on my OBS blog. When I look at the schedule, I often wonder if I should scale back, but I never do.

I started blogging as something I was supposed to do -- a plank in my writing platform -- one small thing that fits into the self-promotion category. Over time, however, it began to provide a consistent writing experience and a connection to readers more immediate than the one I find when I finally finish a novel or have an article appear in print. I'm willing to yield discretionary time to this activity because it contributes to not just an important overall goal (writing), but a piece of who I am.

Photo: Felix Russell-Saw via Unsplash

I am a writer. And on the days when the muse has been crushed by other activities in the committed time category, blogging wriggles free and allows me to express myself. I don't have to advance a story or be true to any character except myself. I merely need to write.

From the perspective of someone working to finish two novels and as many non-fiction projects, I must admit that blogging doesn't always seem like the most efficient use of my time. But, over time, I've discovered that it feeds not only my writer identity, but my writing skills and process as well.

Today, when I split my students up into groups and ask them to define the activities that fit into each time management category, I might just need to do a little introspection myself. After all, what better way could there be to stay on track, and make sure I'm reaching for my own goals, and not someone else's?

If You Want to Make God Laugh, Tell Him About Your Plans

Lumpi via Pixabay

I'm the kind of person who can easily putter away entire days. Never at a loss for things to do, whether practical or recreational, I can spend the whole day moving from one activity to another only to look back at day's end and wonder what I did all day.

Consequently, I try to wrangle my time, making daily lists and setting daily goals. Some days, I actually accomplish what I set out to do, but most days, Woody Allen's quip, "if you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans" is incredibly apt.

Friday, for example. I set my alarm so I'd be up in time to toss in some laundry and get some grading done before I met a friend for a writing session. Midway through my third or fourth paper, my phone rang. My daughter, with a financial question that needed an immediate answer, which, of course, became a mini-crisis. By the time we resolved things and I called my husband to fill him in, I'd lost a big chunk of grading time, and I ended up arriving late for the writing session I'd allowed plenty of time to be prompt for.

When I was working as a school counselor, my mantra was "people before papers," and it's a philosophy I still try to live by. What frustrates me, though, is how inept I end up looking after I've actually made an effort to manage my time and tasks. While all of my efficient friends are checking things off their lists, I'm running to catch up, lists trailing behind me like toilet paper stuck to the heel of my shoe. And the irony of the fact that I actually write about time management does not escape me.

If you want to make God laugh....

The older I get, the more I believe that the ultimate plan really is out of my hands. At the moment, however, I seem to be trapped in an awkward adjustment period, wherein I try to accept the fact that I can't control everything, yet still long to do so. Some days, I can laugh and move on when my plans land around me like confetti; other days, I want to lie down in the confetti and throw a tantrum worthy of a two-year-old.

Diego Torres via Pixabay

In my heart, I know I wouldn't really want to prioritize things any other way. Five years ago, I retired (sort of), excited to live a life where people really did come first. Where I could drop everything because my daughter needed her medicine or my husband needed to go to Ready Care.

What I didn't realize was that it's a multi-step plan. The first step is believing in and establishing the philosophy. The second step is putting it into action. The third step?

Being gracious about it.

Some days, I'm still the toddler in the confetti. Other days, I'm tossing the confetti and giggling.

I guess that's progress.

Friday Feature: Time Management...in Retirement?

When you think of retirement, what comes to mind? No more alarm clocks? Sailing around the world? Pursuing a hobby, or maybe even a new career?

I'm betting that time management doesn't even crack the top ten.

But, when you think of it, what could be more important when you suddenly find yourself with more leisure time to manage?

As it turns out, those who manage their time are happier in retirement than those who don't. I'm not talking about checklists and daily schedules, here -- more like a flexible set of goals and wishful to-dos. Kind of like the way parents are encouraged to look at a toddler's diet -- a week-in-view big picture rather than a day-by-day line item assessment.

Actually, this makes quite a bit of sense. By the time we retire, it's been decades since we've had hours of free time to play with every day, so it's only logical that it might take some time and practice to find a new balance.

So go ahead. Make those retirement plans. And, while you're at it, make that bucket list, too.

You're going to want to have some things to put on your calendar.

Time, Sprints and Marathons

Ironically, this post is late because I was teaching a class on time management. I broke my 2013 streak of perfect postings - yesterday was the first Monday I haven't posted since some time in 2012 - but the combination of class preparation and a writing conference on Saturday stretched my time boundaries to the breaking point. I apologize to those of you loyal enough to show up on a regular basis, and promise to try to resume my normal Monday postings next week.

The concept of time having boundaries is one I learned from Julie Morgenstern, one of my favorite author/organizers to reference when I teach these classes. Morgenstern compares time to a closet. Both have boundaries and neither can be stretched to accomodate more than its capacity, though we certainly try on a regular basis.

My other favorite author/organizer is Marcia Ramsland. Ramsland talks about two ways to manage time: vertically and horizontally. What she refers to as vertical time management is managing the day from beginning to end - the "sprint." Horizontal time management, on the other hand, is long-term planning - week-to-week and month-to-month - the "marathon."

I was talking to my time management class yesterday about Ramsland's concepts when they made  sense to me in a whole new way. If I'd been a cartoon character, a light bulb would have gone on above my head.

As a mother and a counselor, I'm familiar with the philosophy that children grasp concepts when they're ready. I learned this in graduate school, and understood it while preparing lessons for my elementary school kids, but I didn't have my "aha!" moment until I was a mother, trying to potty train a preschooler or break a kindergartner of her thumb-sucking habit. When my daughter was ready, these things happened in a heartbeat. Until then, I could try every trick, bribe or plea in the book, but I'd have just as much success losing 20 pounds in a week.

Yesterday was one of those times when I was ready to absorb old information in a new way. As I strive to find both balance and routine in a life without full-time employment, I find that when I have sprint days they're often followed by crash days. Oh, sure, I knew this was the case after big events - holidays, vacations, other major schedule disruptions - and I felt it to a certain extent when I was working, too. But now that I have more control over how I allocate my time, I'm noticing it much more.

When I have a super productive day, I can't help but think that if I could do that every day, I could conquer the world - or at least my little corner of it. Then, when the next day looks completely different, I'm disappointed. I wonder if I'm lazy or unmotivated or tired - or perhaps all of those things - and figure I just have to try harder.

But yesterday, sharing Ramlsand's concepts with my class, it hit me. No one can sprint through every single day. If we want our sprint days to be successful, we have to balance them with training in the form of rest and rejuvenation. And we can't do that if we're sprinting all the time.

I'm too old to sprint and I'm too out of shape for marathons, but with enough motivation, I can walk the marathon route and still finish the race with some degree of pride. So I will sprint when I can and rest when I need to, remember that my goal is a balanced life, not a perpetual sprint.

Guess you're never too old to learn.

A New View

I don't know how or why it popped up on my screen, but I just found a new layout for the calendar on my iPad that's just what I need. Usually I have the view set to month at a glance, but today I inexplicably pulled up a list view that gives me a day-by-day listing of activities on the left and the current day on the right, with scheduled activities blocked out in violet.

And white space. I love white space.

Since I have a slight tendency (okay, more than a slight tendency) to overbook myself, this visual is just lovely. I could feel myself relax when I saw the white space. So full of hope. So full of promise and opportunity - to do not just the things I need to do, but also the things I want to do.

Maintaining a balance between white space (unscheduled time) and violet space (scheduled time) is essential. And for those of us who have difficulty managing time, anything that reminds us that time isn't as infinite as it seems (visual cues, timer, throat-clearing spouse) can be a good thing. 

For me, time management issues most often arise out of a simple inability to accurately predict how long the things on my to-do list will take. Viewing time (almost literally) in terms of white space and violet space might just make me better at that. Those violet spaces take up a specific amount of room on the screen, helping me to visualize how big a bite they're likely to take out of my day.

Of course, this only works if I schedule things with some degree of accuracy. The default setting on my calendar blocks out an hour of time per task and I think I'm going to stick with that (unless, of course, I know that something will take longer).That way, if something takes less than an hour, I will have that most desirable of all bonuses: more time.

It's amazing the difference the view makes.