Saturday, October 14, 2006

An Old Entry about Procrastination


Awake since 8am, but still seem absolutely unwilling to do any of my work. Of course, its due mostly to the fact that I am unwilling to work unless I am within a 11 hour window of an actual due date. This leads to scrambling, screaming, crying, great gnashing of the teeth and occasionally brilliant work. But to be honest, most of the time what's produced is pretty slip shod.

I have to ask myself why do I (and many others) do this over and over again? I suppose the answer could be simple idleness, or that I just had to catch up on that Augusten Burroughs book that a friend gave me, but perhaps the pathology lies deeper than that.

On this cloudy sort of day here in Los Angeles, typical of mid-Autumn in my own Massachusetts homeland, I find myself wistfully depressed and wandering up the street to the internet cafe hoping that a large cup of coffee and their bright yellow decoration scheme will somehow invigorate me and inspire moments of brillance. I look around at the quiet houses an the Orthodox Jewish kids who are hanging out now that Temple is over, and suddenly their outfits are (finally) seasonally appropriate. And I don't particularly feel like being brilliant, I feel like taking a few pills and then a nap.

I think I am rather typical of a certain kind of person. The kind of person who was told over and over again that achievement is really the only true barometer of value, and that simply existing is a state of being to be immediately scrutinized and then discarded. Wandering back home with my coffee and not feeling particularly energized, I noticed that there was a crow perched high above me on a streetlight, cawing its presence to the world and the indifferent, speeding Melrose traffic. Its a species of bird and sound that, again, I associate much more with where I grew up than sunny SoCal. It's the sound of leaves turning, of strange middle school soccer games under dwindling October skies, and of waiting for something to happen while looking out of an afternoon living room window at a little harbor fed by an Atlantic blue sea.

I'm in a mood.

So none of this really explains why I would rather stay in my room for the rest of the day with the door closed and listen to the Charlie Brown Christmas Album over and over again. Well, I could just chalk it up to it being a kind of winter-y day that makes the New Englander in me want to immediately retreat to bed with a good book for the rest of the day. Thailand is getting further and further away from me in time, and perhaps will become one of those "fantasy" memories until I get the clams together to go back there to toodle around again in a tuk-tuk through the humid midnight streets of Bangkok.

12/03/04 11:13AM PST

Back from Thailand. Rapturous, breathy and moist descriptions to come soon with links to photos if I can figure out how to do it.

In the meantime, I have been back in the States for about a week and am already sick again. I am filled with hate.



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