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.
After a long battle to get DSL service in our apartment, we’re finally connected! Signing up was a real BITCH, and once we got our self-installation kit and reached our activation date (Friday the 3rd), nothing worked. During a 57-minute phone call on Friday evening to Verizon tech support in India, an appointment with a technician was set up for today, sometime “by 7pm”.
The telephone wire to our apartment was cut, presumably after our landlord moved out. The technician called me at 3:15pm saying he’d be here shortly, and VOILA!
WE GOT INTERNET!
I’m so happy I don’t know where to begin. After gathering my thoughts, I checked my email, went on Facebook (that’s so sad, isn’t it?) and decided to blog about this. I’m thinking that while this is a joyous event, it’s probably not so good for productivity. Let’s see, what was I doing before the technician called?
Reading. I had just had lunch and done the dishes, and I was reading a little bit for pleasure before getting to work. Mom was here this weekend, so I have a lot of work to catch up on.
It’s been over an hour now, and I still haven’t done anything productive. I feel a cold coming on (my throat feels raw and my nose is not so good), so I think I’ll walk over to the Safeway nearby and get myself some cold medicine.
Mmmm, Internet. I love you.
The endless search for a decent, affordable apartment is driving me mad. As time passes, the hunt is becoming more and more difficult; school is starting very soon, and I suspect the good ones have already been taken. I take it as a sign — every time we find something but lose it, I tell myself that it’s just not meant to be.
I’m not usually a huge believer of fate, or destiny or what have you. I don’t usually think that things happen for a reason; I don’t tend to blame fuck-ups on life or the universe. But I understand why people do it: sometimes it feels good to think that you’re not in control. That’s why I’m choosing this approach this time around. And if we don’t have a place of our own, well, we have someone else’s. It’s not like we’re homeless at the moment.
I’m perfectly fine with staying at this location for now. I think it’s just starting to take a toll on me (after three days, imagine that!) because there is already so much to think about and so much to be done.
Perhaps agreeing to this part-time translation job before school even started wasn’t such a good idea. Or maybe it was. All I know is, I need money, and this will give me some good experience/practice.
But I get distracted too easily. If I receive an e-mail from Facebook telling me that so and so superpoked me or sent me a message or wrote on my wall, I’ll go straight to the website and potentially spend an hour or two on it — even if nothing interesting is going on, even if no one’s updated anything in the past half hour (I would know, because I check…frequently…). If someone tells me that they’re having trouble getting something done, I’ll be on Google trying to find a solution.
I need to stop doing that. Focusing has never been a forte of mine, unless I’m helping someone out. But if it’s my own shit, I won’t think twice about procrastinating.
For example, I’m blogging at the moment when I have eleven articles to translate by August 30.
I have to get back to work, but I also need new running shoes. I hear there’s a New Balance store not far from here. Hmm…
I’ve finally beaten procrastination, though I wish it were in a more productive aspect of my life. I was all talk and no walk about hobbies for a while, but that all changed on Wednesday afternoon when I walked into Beadworks, determined to buy myself a pair of round nose pliers, some pretty beads, and various other parts. Not feeling particularly creative or inspired, I wandered around the store for a good half hour before finally buying the necessary pliers and what is now three pairs of earrings. I’d post some pictures, but the quality’s particularly lousy tonight; what the fuck, WordPress?
At any rate, I’m starting with the easier stuff and moving on to more complex projects in a while. As with anything, it was very difficult to start but once I assembled the first pair, ideas began to hit me. Should anything change drastically, I’ll be sure to update.
I think either WordPress or Firefox is being an asshole tonight. Or it could just be my computer, which I suppose could use a nice reboot.
Lil’ Monsta did it again; the blue wheel lights up but the screen refuses to turn on. Of course, I can’t switch to recovery mode for some obscure reason. Or rather, I did it again…yep, I dropped it–this is one of the things I was referring to in my previous entry. Speaking of the previous entry–the following night I spilled rice all over the kitchen floor and I fell up the stairs (yeah, UP the fucking stairs). This evening, I got a cramp in my left calf while at the gym. This week just loves me!
There are certain things that one should always be on top of: keeping the bedroom clean, emptying the trash, updating virus definitions on the computer, alphabetizing books… Somehow I always manage to find the most inappropriate times to get those things done; tonight, it’s ridding my desk of clutter. As a bonus, I might add to my walls these awesome artsy-fartsy postcards that I got during First Friday.
2:14am. I don’t know why I do this. Most of the time it’s completely automatic; I don’t usually make a conscious effort to stay up until the wee hours of the morning so that I can embellish my walls with a few new things. But sometimes, I’m deliberately putting off sleep–and if that happens, it’s because I had a bad dream the previous night. Last night, it was something awful about a remote-controlled car sans remote; it was out of control and very aggressive. It kept hitting a bunch of us–including a person in a wheelchair–from the back as we were walking. In real life, one could just disable this toy by destroying it, but in the dream it was increasingly creepy. Ever try to pull yourself out of a bad dream? Painful, isn’t it? At the very least it’s highly unpleasant.
Bottom line is–after careful consideration–Me: 1, Procrastination: 6,773,257.