What, what, WHAT are you doing?

Let me not be a slave to anything that has mastered me, save Jesus Christ.
I don't want to lose sight of the eternal while ministering in the temporal space of this earth. I want God-sized dreams that are not influenced or limited by man-sized thoughts, ideas, criticisms, or problems.
I suppose that this means i first need to possess God-sized dreams. To conquer fear and doubt and not be focused merely on the possibility of failure and adjust my plans and goals accordingly, but to be driven by the promise of success contained in the power of God at my disposal. [Today's journal entry]

As i write this i am sitting at my desk listening to Anberlin whine out of my laptop's speakers and trying to avoid working on anything that resembles productivity. My iPhone keeps buzzing with texts and facebook updates that i am systematically ignoring. Why am i shirking responsibility? its more than just me being my usual ADD, procrastinating self. And its not just the fact that the office is empty save for myself and the smartly dressed Ricoh copier repair dude. (and Jesse...somewhere up in the Loft shouting Sunday's already finished lesson down to empty chairs. dirty overachiever)
I'm supposedly teaching tonight for young adult's bible study. and by "supposedly" i mean "i am"...And, in all honesty, i've done all my research, written out all my notes in my little black book, and done some extensive reading of books on the subject. All that is left to do is synthesize my rambling, scrawled notes into a legible Word document so i can actually read them come 6:30 tonight when people arrive and expectantly look at me to utter some profundity about Luke 15.
but i havn't even so much as opened up a Word doc yet. Here i am, poised over my computer, paralyzed by the unrealized and unsubstantiated fear that possibly i won't be able to organize yesterday's semi-chaotic thoughts. I even worry that i will have a flash of exegetical brilliance and find a new concept or central theme in the passage and have to do the pain staking work of reordering my notes. It's really all very laughable.
But yet i still havn't even opened my notebook from yesterday.
So i just sit here and eat little red fish out of a yellow plastic bag and muse about my particular short comings. If i am a slave to anything, i must confess, i am a slave to the many faceted nuances of fear.