Ok, so this is what I do...
Really, this is EXACTLY what I do...
I move.
Over and over again, I move.
So, of course, Im moving again.
I hurt myself.
It doesn't happen all the time, only when its very inconvenient.
So, of course, I stab through my palm... when Im trying to pack and move.
I procrastinate.
I am especially good at 'talking to people' when Im supposed to me DOING IMPORTANT SHIT.
Thus far, today.. with my painful stab wound I've had a 3 hour visit with one friend, a 2 hour chat with another and two separate two hour conversations on the phone... when Im supposed to be packing/hauling my tons-of-shit upstairs.
Sure, sure... the move was a free-will choice. I didn't HAVE to move, I CHOSE to move.
Sure, sure... the stab wound was a normal kitchen accident and it will probably heal fine and it will only set me back a little bit.
Sure, sure... I socialized all day, but some of that socializing was WHILE I worked. Not MUCH but SOME of it!
I can't HELP it! Socializing is my #1 favorite way to Not Do Work!
(Sleep is my #2)
And yes, I DID take a nap today, too.
Excuse me!
Whenever I move.. I find scribbled-on pieces of paper.
EVERYWHERE.
Hundreds of pieces.
Pages and pages and pages.
I write all the time, even when Im not writing.
I have boxes of these scraps... they are like unorganized journals.
They're written on napkins, on receipts, on flyers, on the borders of newspapers, on backs of pictures, on full sheets, half sheets, quarter sheets and torn corners of sheets of paper. A popular medium is on the back of job-training materials....
Sometimes they contain a truth, a line, a picture, a moment, a thought... thats why I keep them. But what ELSE can I do with them?
Right now,its 6am and I finished my chores for my volunteer gig which I am been performing slowly all night.. now Im gonna nap and then wake up to do Zumba and soak in a hottub for awhile.. because that is how your shit gets moved from one apartment to another.
TOTALLY.
Uh.... I think I need to work on my working strategies of working more workingly....
I move.
Over and over again, I move.
So, of course, Im moving again.
I hurt myself.
It doesn't happen all the time, only when its very inconvenient.
So, of course, I stab through my palm... when Im trying to pack and move.
I procrastinate.
I am especially good at 'talking to people' when Im supposed to me DOING IMPORTANT SHIT.
Thus far, today.. with my painful stab wound I've had a 3 hour visit with one friend, a 2 hour chat with another and two separate two hour conversations on the phone... when Im supposed to be packing/hauling my tons-of-shit upstairs.
Sure, sure... the move was a free-will choice. I didn't HAVE to move, I CHOSE to move.
Sure, sure... the stab wound was a normal kitchen accident and it will probably heal fine and it will only set me back a little bit.
Sure, sure... I socialized all day, but some of that socializing was WHILE I worked. Not MUCH but SOME of it!
I can't HELP it! Socializing is my #1 favorite way to Not Do Work!
(Sleep is my #2)
And yes, I DID take a nap today, too.
Excuse me!
Whenever I move.. I find scribbled-on pieces of paper.
EVERYWHERE.
Hundreds of pieces.
Pages and pages and pages.
I write all the time, even when Im not writing.
I have boxes of these scraps... they are like unorganized journals.
They're written on napkins, on receipts, on flyers, on the borders of newspapers, on backs of pictures, on full sheets, half sheets, quarter sheets and torn corners of sheets of paper. A popular medium is on the back of job-training materials....
Sometimes they contain a truth, a line, a picture, a moment, a thought... thats why I keep them. But what ELSE can I do with them?
Right now,its 6am and I finished my chores for my volunteer gig which I am been performing slowly all night.. now Im gonna nap and then wake up to do Zumba and soak in a hottub for awhile.. because that is how your shit gets moved from one apartment to another.
TOTALLY.
Uh.... I think I need to work on my working strategies of working more workingly....