I’m not a focused adult.

I know because I have tried acting focused, and it always resulted in my being uncomfortable and all too aware that I'm acting.

I turn odd shades of purple and my head wonders in all directions at once.  The more I force myself to focus, the more ideas come to me in overwhelming waves of projects that I strongly feel compelled to begin- but never to be finished.  I refer to this as creative drifting.

Focus fits me like a sports jacket that's a size too small.  Yes, I could probably wear it all day if I had to, but everyone would notice that I'm uncomfortable, and my shoulders are painfully restricted and my shirt cuffs are far-too revealed.  I'd look like a plump Costco blueberry muffin that was squished into a super-tight Saran Wrap ball.

Focus is what my bosses always used to tell me to do.  Only now, I’m not interested in working a 60-hour week or slowly advancing a career that I...