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Procrastination 101 |
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d) None of the Above
"We are always comparing what we are with what we should be. This measuring ourselves all the time against something or someone is one of the primary cause of conflict. Now why is there any comparison at all? If you do not compare yourself with another--you will be what you really are."
~Krishnamurti
For what might be the very first time in my whole adult life, I have what some might call, “my shit together” (I don’t even want to know the etymology of that phrase, although the idea of googling “etymology of phrase ‘my shit together’” is almost too tempting to resist). See what I mean, people? I’ve been writing for 2 frigging minutes and I’ve already found something else to do. This is how writing has been going lately.
Here is a list of things I’ve found to do other than writing today:
- Cleaned all flower vases, discarded of wilting flowers in said vases.
- Put fresh water in all vases.
- Arranged flowers.
- Renewed all my magazine subscriptions (Wired, The Economist & The Week)
- Registered online to take advantage of The Economist’s digital platforms.
- Explored my fascinating new benefits with The Economist online.
- Looked at the DMV website for some information for my “daughter”.
- Renewed my AAA Membership.
- Signed up to manage my Allstate Renters policy online.
- Called GEICO for a car insurance quote to see if they could compete with a new one my agents gave me for Allstate (They can’t.)
- Called my insurance agent to tell him I was leaving GEICO.
- Verified my location on couchsurfers.org, spent 20 minutes wandering around the wide world of couches.
- Researched flight prices to Argentina.
- Check in on wwtdd.com, my favorite mindless gossip site and the only one I will waste precious brain cells reading because he’s HILARIOUS and always has hot chicks sending him semi-nude pics.
- Wandered around Facebook.
- Engaged in some witty banter on Facebook feeds.
- Did my laundry.
- Cleaned my place.
- Organized my paperwork.
- Looked through my external hard drive for music for “Pillow Fight”.
- Played the piano.
- Made a list of things to do for next week.
I was literally MINUTES away from reading the user manual for my Droid and the Explanation of Benefits booklet that came with my fancy new Blue Cross policy, when I decided it might be best if I just sat down and got to work.
Let me see if I can get this straight. So, when I had no free time, nothing but financial stress and a disorganized life, I was able to put all of that aside and write constantly. Now that I have D. None of the above, I seem to be addicted to micro-managing the details of my life.
Or maybe I just have no idea how to write now that I have no pressure. Or perhaps I used writing as an escape from the mess that was my life. Or maybe, I’ve just been running from something. But the truth is, I'm too hard on myself--I have been writing. I just haven’t been writing for a public forum. If I don’t journal daily, I become a lunatic. I keep a dream journal for all the dreams I can remember. I write a lot of things the 2 readers of Phetasy will never see unless someday, they are brought to big screen, or I just say FUCK IT and release a PDF of the screenplay for the world to read.
Which I might just do. Because the minute I engage in the bullshit that is the “business”, I don’t like what I do any more. Someone today said, “I can’t imagine Shakespeare ever saying ‘I really need to get an agent.’”
Ah. Now we’re getting there.
I find myself in a weird place with writing at the moment (hence why I’ve been so diligently avoiding it). I would like nothing more than to be able to get paid to write, because it’s what I love to do and truly want to do all day and night. It pours out of me and regardless of whether or not I am getting paid, I guarantee I will be writing.
But I also have to recognize and accept that I have no interest in doing any of the other things I am supposed to do to support the desire to get paid (other than write). I don’t want a manager. I think agents are a punch of smoke-blowing pussies. I hate the Hollywood game--I'm disillusioned with it and feel like there is no place for a person like me on the market when the masses demand more and more mind-numbing fluff by the minute. I would be lying if I didn’t admit to a deep inner rage at the fact that Snooki has a $600,000 book deal. Snooki. A woman who confesses to waking up in a garbage can once a month and probably can't even read. I don’t like comparing myself to others, it's a bad habit I have to work hard to undo, and I feel ashamed because where that train of thought leads is to the fact that on some level, I'm jealous…of FUCKIN’ SNOOKI! This feeling alone will keep me from writing, quite possibly for the rest of my life.
So, I’ve been told to focus instead on Phetasy and “getting the word out”. But then I end up hating myself. I find self-promotion exhausting and self-defeating. Probably because on some deep level that I truly resent and hate to even acknowledge, I want to accepted, followed, friended, read, beloved. Twitter and Facebook speak to my ego and all of my insecurities. They allow me to sit around all day comparing how amazing everyone else is to what I loser I am. This is a dangerous mental rabbit hole for someone like me to fall down.
I’m an addict, a creative type, a person whose mental stability rests precariously on MANY tools that I have gathered over the years. I am not very far away from waking up in a garbage can myself if I’m not careful; and caring about things like what people think of me or analytics only fuels a treacherous attachment to results that, if I am to stay a healthy and productive member of society, I MUST diligently and consistently root out of my daily mental loop.
Something happened to me this past week with regards to my connection to social networks. I realized we have a dysfunctional relationship. Unfortunately, since I am dealing with technology, I have to take full responsibility for this fucked up partnership and all of its projections. So, I have to break up with them, because they will never break up with me. They take away from my work because they’re a great distraction. A great way to procrastinate. An even better way to self-destruct. Lord knows I certainly don’t need to find any more ways to do that. If I’m gifted at anything, it’s finding creative ways to self-destruct.
What does that mean? I’m not sure yet. I think having this epiphany is enough for the moment. See what writing does for me? I sit down to write a stupid blogumn about procrastination and end up realizing I’m feeling insecure about my writing yet resentful that I’m not getting paid to do it. Gee…I wonder why…
I gotta get going…I think I have just enough time to google the etymology of having "my shit together".
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