In which I theorize about a quirk of my psyche
First off, Blogathon fundraising is at $50 out of $500 (many thanks to usernamenumber!) But there's a while more to go. Pledge post is here!
So I've always known that I'm a procrastinator. A terrible horrible no-good procrastinator. This ain't news. I procrastinate on stuff that's important because it intimidates or overwhelms me. I procrastinate on stuff that's unimportant because it annoys or bores me. And the longer I don't do something, the more this huge calcified mess of NO COPE builds up around it, and I don't even want to think about it, and I have to break through all that mess to actually do it, cringing and screaming all the way. And this covers everything from school papers to assignments at work to creative stuff to personal projects. It's one of the reasons my life is so freakin' full of loose ends and epic fail.
But I've just realized something else. I procrastinate on things that would make me happy. Things that I want to do. Things that would be awesome.
Not all the time, certainly. I can be big on instant gratification sometimes. But look at the date on that Blogathon pledge post. I could have done that days ago, and probably raised more money, but some shadowy part of my brain that wants me to fail because I don't deserve to do well stopped me.
Even more relevant, I need to send a follow-up email to somebody about an apartment. The most awesome apartment ever. I want to live there like burning. It's beautiful and in a beautiful location and contains epic housemate and adorable dog and everything. But I cannot kick-start my brain into writing a quick email with contact info and references. Which said potential housemate has been asking me about for a week.
Auuuuuugh. BRAIN.
If this falls through and I wind up living somewhere crappy for the next few years, I blame my fucking brain. Specifically the part that seems to actively work to undermine my life.
This turned out less theorizing and more a brain rant. Eh. Should do more brain rants. Maybe would help. LiveJournal: the poor and uninsured man's therapy. Anywho.
There is no more point to this post. Brain rant done. Off to hang out with Awesome Dude Who Is Only In Boston For Another Week and then prep for Blogathon--by which I mean get to sleep early.
Oh, also? Miles Vorkosigan has been eating my life. Have blazed through the first two omnibi (which I read before, but years ago) in the past few days. I'm reading again, WTF?! More later.
Also also? I am not just in the MIT Musical Theater Guild's upcoming production of Jesus Christ Superstar, I am doing costume design. Which is completely new territory for me. But hey. There will be awesomeness. Also more later.
Blogathoooooooooooooooooooooon!
So I've always known that I'm a procrastinator. A terrible horrible no-good procrastinator. This ain't news. I procrastinate on stuff that's important because it intimidates or overwhelms me. I procrastinate on stuff that's unimportant because it annoys or bores me. And the longer I don't do something, the more this huge calcified mess of NO COPE builds up around it, and I don't even want to think about it, and I have to break through all that mess to actually do it, cringing and screaming all the way. And this covers everything from school papers to assignments at work to creative stuff to personal projects. It's one of the reasons my life is so freakin' full of loose ends and epic fail.
But I've just realized something else. I procrastinate on things that would make me happy. Things that I want to do. Things that would be awesome.
Not all the time, certainly. I can be big on instant gratification sometimes. But look at the date on that Blogathon pledge post. I could have done that days ago, and probably raised more money, but some shadowy part of my brain that wants me to fail because I don't deserve to do well stopped me.
Even more relevant, I need to send a follow-up email to somebody about an apartment. The most awesome apartment ever. I want to live there like burning. It's beautiful and in a beautiful location and contains epic housemate and adorable dog and everything. But I cannot kick-start my brain into writing a quick email with contact info and references. Which said potential housemate has been asking me about for a week.
Auuuuuugh. BRAIN.
If this falls through and I wind up living somewhere crappy for the next few years, I blame my fucking brain. Specifically the part that seems to actively work to undermine my life.
This turned out less theorizing and more a brain rant. Eh. Should do more brain rants. Maybe would help. LiveJournal: the poor and uninsured man's therapy. Anywho.
There is no more point to this post. Brain rant done. Off to hang out with Awesome Dude Who Is Only In Boston For Another Week and then prep for Blogathon--by which I mean get to sleep early.
Oh, also? Miles Vorkosigan has been eating my life. Have blazed through the first two omnibi (which I read before, but years ago) in the past few days. I'm reading again, WTF?! More later.
Also also? I am not just in the MIT Musical Theater Guild's upcoming production of Jesus Christ Superstar, I am doing costume design. Which is completely new territory for me. But hey. There will be awesomeness. Also more later.
Blogathoooooooooooooooooooooon!