On Productivity (and other junk)

A few days ago, I forget when exactly, I decided that my work wasn’t advancing fast enough and that the Internet was way too distracting. Actually, I had decided that a long time ago, but I had never really put my foot down and done something about it. So, a few days ago, I thought there should be some sort of application, add-on, whatever, that could block access to certain time-sucking, productivity-slaying websites; being the ressourceful person that I am, I checked the add-ons for Firefox and BAM! there it was. I quickly banned myself from 26 different websites that I frequently — obsessively — visit every day (and night). Access was blocked 24/7. That’s right, was.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way — right? So if I decide that I’m sick of working and that I want to fuck around for a good hour or two, you bet your ass I’ll find a way. Tonight I decided that it was an initially good but ultimately futile attempt at becoming more productive.  I cleared the ban but am keeping the add-on, just in case my procrastination spirals out of control. Actually, it’s not so much procrastination as it is a chunk of time dedicated to brain downtime. I’m incredibly afraid of crashing and burning after working like a maniac for days and days and days. I think this month is going down as the worst month in a long time, in terms of work load. Thankfully it’s a short month, right? Unfortunately, though, I need time. I need more time. More hours in the day, more hours in the night — something.

And yet I sit here, fully aware of this work-turned-burden that’s sitting on my shoulders, blogging away. Words are so useless sometimes. I can bitch and moan about this all I want, but in the end it’s not going to help any.

No, I take it back. Words are not useless. Being neither an artist nor a musician, nor anything that requires some sort of creativity AND talent, I truly have no other outlet for my thoughts and feelings. I could go running, but that’s exhausting and, honestly, when I let out my frustration I want to be able to see it. I know that exercising is productive in its own way, but I need to channel my stress/anger/frustration/what-have-you into something that I can see.

That’s why screaming never helps but breaking shit does. Not exactly what I would call “productive,” but you know what I mean.

And so I blog because it’s the only way for me to let it out, even if next-to-nobody is reading it. At least it’s out there, ‘know what I mean? I could talk it out, but there’s no one I’d like to ramble on with.

No, words are not useless. My mother does nothing but complain and sigh when she calls me. She’s constantly reminding me — whether explicitly or implicitly — that she’s getting older faster. It’s depressing, really. It brings me down and frustrates me to the point where I want to snap and tell her to stop telling me these things, because then she’s sad and I’m sad, and more importantly we’re not together to sit and cuddle and vegetate in front of the TV.

Yes, I’m 24 and I still snuggle with my mother. I want to be 4 again.

But I never do. I’ve never snapped and I never will, because who else is she going to tell these things? I need her to tell me as much as possible because I need to understand what she’s going through, without me by her side. I don’t want her to keep all of those feelings inside because it isn’t healthy. I’d much rather provide her with an outlet and feel sad than be happy-go-lucky while she’s bottling up all that negativity. You follow? I don’t get how some people can be so out of touch with their parents.

What’s with planes crashing in NY?

I’ve been reading people’s ‘25 things’ on Facebook. I’ve written four different lists myself, and I think that, in a way, I write them for myself more than I do for other people (although there definitely are items that people should pay real close attention to — kind of like a ‘How to not piss Sophie off’ guide). I think I will reproduce them on this blog just so I can keep adding items to the lists (who really wants to read 1355 ‘25 things’ about me on Facebook? The fact that it shows up in the news feed is so attention-whorish, too).

In the same vein, or maybe to start another list right here, right now, I’ve finally realized that, despite my broad interests and despite how easily amused I am, I’m an extremely difficult person to shop for. Over the years I’ve accumulated so much stuff that is virtually useless to me and yet has some value. I’m not sure what to do with them. I don’t like having things around just gathering dust; that’s what my high school notebooks did for years before I decided to throw them all away. What do you do with things to which you attach a moderate amount of sentimental value but that are completely useless?

So that’s one thing — people buying you random junk, either because they have no idea what to get you or because they have poor taste.

The other thing is that my tastes are practically unpredictable. I have to admit that I’m not very consistent with the things I like and dislike. This is why sites like Pandora and site features like “We think you would also like…” never. fucking. work.

For one, I’ve given up on Pandora. Secondly, all those websites that claim they think they know what I would like are dead wrong 80% of the time (a totally made up statistic). Whatever, no one said I had to make sense. You can discern a trend if you check out my interests, but chances are you won’t be able to complete the list with things or people that I actually like. Unless you know me very, very well — and very few people do. VERY few.

So that goes for books, movies, music, jewelry, et cetera, et cetera. If people don’t know what to buy me, I wish they’d just ask; I’d tell them what I tell Sabrina every year: I don’t want anything. And you can’t exactly go around and tell people “Hey, don’t get me anything for my birthday/Jesus’ birthday/whatever special day,” because that’s just presumptuous and nobody likes that.

That said, I do like getting presents. YEAH SO, no one said I had to make sense, and no one said presents had to be fancy shit either. You know, for my birthday, you can give me $20 or a pack of gum — I’ll be just as happy either way. That’s it; I’m a very easy person to please — not because I like everything and anything, but because I like simple things.

Think simple. Think useful. Sometimes, think edible.