Because procrastination is an art form, and I am its Van Gogh
I love Van Gogh. I have no idea why, really. I just do. Something about his work just...I dunno...appeals to me. I can't say it "speaks" to me, because I have absolutely no idea what that means. If someone cares to explain it to me, you have too much free time, and I suggest getting a hobby. All I can say is his "Night Cafe" is my favorite, and has made me enjoy red a whole lot more than I used to.
Tonight, I sat down after UK lost to Michigan State (still no idea if that makes me happy, but at least my bracket got some help), and tried to get some work done.
I read 15 pages.
Then, of course, came distraction in the form of Yahoo-flavored Scrabble (TM). Thanks Susie.
Then, of course, came an IM from Gabrielle, a friend in California. Another hour gone.
And now, I'm blogging. Instead of getting my work done. Whee.
If procrastination were a drug, I'd have over-dosed in 1987.
If procrastination were food, I'd weigh 900 lbs, and Jenny Craig would run screaming from my corpulence.
If procrastination were a woman, I'd be in jail for stalking her.
If procrastination were a list of metaphors......
The problem is I have no idea how I want to spend my time, but I know I'm not getting a happy-hat from reading about products liability or corporate crime. This final semester of law school is about as much fun as placing my dick in an open drawer, and slamming it shut. Repeatedly.
(Actually, I think that might be more fun. Realistically, after the second or third slam, the feeling's all gone anyway, and it just becomes aerobic excercise anyway.)
My life is not what I'd like it to be, and that upsets me. Of course, as a Procrastination Artist, I cannot possibly get off my ass and change anything. Can I? Noooooo, I'm too busy playing PS2 and tooling about on the internet.
Is there a job out there that pays six figures for that? If so, please someone send me an address to forward my resume.
I've decided to remain in Kentucky for the foreseeable future, ostensibly to stand a better chance of getting a job. But stay here, for the rest of my life? I don't want that, and it scares me to death that I'll fall into a situation which requires me to stick around this place. I want New York City. I want Katz's Deli. I want Broadway. I want honking horns, and someone shouting, "You're blocking the box, asshole!"
Thing is, NYC doesn't have what Louisville has. It doesn't have enough green. Louisville doesn't have a smoking ban, and I can't seem to quit. NYC lacks the genuine friendliness of complete strangers I've been taking for granted these nine years I've been away from home.
And I begin to wonder, where IS home anymore? I really don't know. My parents' place in NJ isn't home, and hasn't been for years. Shoot, my old room has become an office with a superfluous bed. Kentucky really isn't home...yet. I guess it will be, once I stop moving every fifteen minutes. I tell you, just ONCE I'd like to stay in an apartment for more than a year. Just once, I'd like to make my domicile into something more meaningful than a place to keep my stuff dry. Just once, I'd like to live somewhere that doesn't require me to paint over the walls before I leave, because grey walls are so pretty-looking.
Just once, I'd like to own furniture that does not come with instructions and a hex key. I swear, two acid-junkies and an allen wrench could completely dismantle this shell of a life I have. And that doesn't put a grin on my face, either.
And, since I've fallen into "complaint pattern alpha," I might as well bemoan the fact that I'm single. I don't even want to think about how long it's been since I got laid. And, to compound the problem, I've broken my old rule about not whoring myself on-line (see post on that topic...) Thing is, I'm not even looking for that on-line, but it finds me. And I'd be lying if I didn't say there are some people out there it'd be mighty nice to actually meet. Of course, none of these people live ANYWHERE NEARBY.
Perhaps I'm also the Van Gogh of Irony?
Let's face it, whatever it is that I have to offer is getting wasted right now. I rarely leave my apartment, because I can't afford to go out. And when I DO go out, I spend my time surrounded by friends who are either married, engaged, or co-habitating. I swear, going out stag with 5 couples make me feel like I'm hosting a game show, or round-table discussion. There I sit, on the end of a table, trying to keep up with the conversation. You have any idea how difficult it is to have an odd-person conversation? Add in the fact that the other people are in relationships, and it turns into me drinking too much because I've got to do something to pass the time while being ignored.
Shit, the last woman I hooked up with decided it'd be more fun to lie there like a dead fish than get involved in the action. Which, of course, made me feel like some sort of criminal. Which, of course, led to me getting paranoid, and stopping the whole affair. Shame really, K's really a cool girl; I wonder why she thinks it appropriate to just lay there and "take it?" Personally, I find that fucked WAY up, but maybe I'm in the minority on the subject?
Tonight, I sat down after UK lost to Michigan State (still no idea if that makes me happy, but at least my bracket got some help), and tried to get some work done.
I read 15 pages.
Then, of course, came distraction in the form of Yahoo-flavored Scrabble (TM). Thanks Susie.
Then, of course, came an IM from Gabrielle, a friend in California. Another hour gone.
And now, I'm blogging. Instead of getting my work done. Whee.
If procrastination were a drug, I'd have over-dosed in 1987.
If procrastination were food, I'd weigh 900 lbs, and Jenny Craig would run screaming from my corpulence.
If procrastination were a woman, I'd be in jail for stalking her.
If procrastination were a list of metaphors......
The problem is I have no idea how I want to spend my time, but I know I'm not getting a happy-hat from reading about products liability or corporate crime. This final semester of law school is about as much fun as placing my dick in an open drawer, and slamming it shut. Repeatedly.
(Actually, I think that might be more fun. Realistically, after the second or third slam, the feeling's all gone anyway, and it just becomes aerobic excercise anyway.)
My life is not what I'd like it to be, and that upsets me. Of course, as a Procrastination Artist, I cannot possibly get off my ass and change anything. Can I? Noooooo, I'm too busy playing PS2 and tooling about on the internet.
Is there a job out there that pays six figures for that? If so, please someone send me an address to forward my resume.
I've decided to remain in Kentucky for the foreseeable future, ostensibly to stand a better chance of getting a job. But stay here, for the rest of my life? I don't want that, and it scares me to death that I'll fall into a situation which requires me to stick around this place. I want New York City. I want Katz's Deli. I want Broadway. I want honking horns, and someone shouting, "You're blocking the box, asshole!"
Thing is, NYC doesn't have what Louisville has. It doesn't have enough green. Louisville doesn't have a smoking ban, and I can't seem to quit. NYC lacks the genuine friendliness of complete strangers I've been taking for granted these nine years I've been away from home.
And I begin to wonder, where IS home anymore? I really don't know. My parents' place in NJ isn't home, and hasn't been for years. Shoot, my old room has become an office with a superfluous bed. Kentucky really isn't home...yet. I guess it will be, once I stop moving every fifteen minutes. I tell you, just ONCE I'd like to stay in an apartment for more than a year. Just once, I'd like to make my domicile into something more meaningful than a place to keep my stuff dry. Just once, I'd like to live somewhere that doesn't require me to paint over the walls before I leave, because grey walls are so pretty-looking.
Just once, I'd like to own furniture that does not come with instructions and a hex key. I swear, two acid-junkies and an allen wrench could completely dismantle this shell of a life I have. And that doesn't put a grin on my face, either.
And, since I've fallen into "complaint pattern alpha," I might as well bemoan the fact that I'm single. I don't even want to think about how long it's been since I got laid. And, to compound the problem, I've broken my old rule about not whoring myself on-line (see post on that topic...) Thing is, I'm not even looking for that on-line, but it finds me. And I'd be lying if I didn't say there are some people out there it'd be mighty nice to actually meet. Of course, none of these people live ANYWHERE NEARBY.
Perhaps I'm also the Van Gogh of Irony?
Let's face it, whatever it is that I have to offer is getting wasted right now. I rarely leave my apartment, because I can't afford to go out. And when I DO go out, I spend my time surrounded by friends who are either married, engaged, or co-habitating. I swear, going out stag with 5 couples make me feel like I'm hosting a game show, or round-table discussion. There I sit, on the end of a table, trying to keep up with the conversation. You have any idea how difficult it is to have an odd-person conversation? Add in the fact that the other people are in relationships, and it turns into me drinking too much because I've got to do something to pass the time while being ignored.
Shit, the last woman I hooked up with decided it'd be more fun to lie there like a dead fish than get involved in the action. Which, of course, made me feel like some sort of criminal. Which, of course, led to me getting paranoid, and stopping the whole affair. Shame really, K's really a cool girl; I wonder why she thinks it appropriate to just lay there and "take it?" Personally, I find that fucked WAY up, but maybe I'm in the minority on the subject?
posted by StofCircumstance at 2:13 AM
2 Comments:
Ok, I'm gonna comment on as much as possible...I don't rememebr everything that made me laugh or smile cuz, alas, I am drowning my sorrows in much liquor tonight.
Ok. Onward. Oh wait, I just figgered out how to have your blog show up so I can comment on everything. I am such a frickin' genius. I wish Mensa would stop calling me already, though.
I don't know Night Cafe, or Van Gogh for that matta, but I do know red. I like red. You know that. Was that aimed at me? HAHA I'm so vain.
I will not take the blame for your procrastination...unless I'm sitting in your lap.
I thoroughly enjoyed the "If procrastination were" shtick...more so because you didn't word it to say "If procrastination WAS..." I'm a grammar whore.
Dont stay in Kentucky too long. It will affect your IQ. There is "green" in the suburbs. Re: smoking. If I can quit after 14 years, anyone can. It's called Zyban. It is the exact same thing as Wellbutrin, so fake depression so your insurance will pay for it. You take it for a week before your quit date. Then you just stop smoking and stay on the Zyban for the rest of the month. I used the inhalers for a day or two after, and that was it. The first day blows. But you'll be totally fine by the end of the week. HOWEVER you should know that magically, at the end of the week, your tastebuds will have started working again and everything tastes really really good. I...ate my face off. I've been quit since June 5th. I had to wash everything in my closet and febreeze my couch because the smell I didn't notice before was making me nauseous. Just quit. I can tell you with all honesty that it is DISGUSTING. I still smell it in my couch occasionally. Bleeeuuh.
I'm not even going near the single/no sex thing. Maybe you'd have a girl if you were around people who had all of their teeth. Graduate and come back to the land of the civilized.
What New York once stood for, at least in our minds, has bloated and warped. Louisville is growing and it's amazing how easily the slightest influences can affect the shape of a growing thing. The music scene is evolving and original music is finally just beginning to get more support, instead of it just being a cover-band town. We have our little Jazz bar, our art galleries, our diverse cultural restaurants, eccentric niche pubs, etc... etc... We also have more than enough traffic, in my opinion. Louisville's little sister, New Albany, IN, is even growing and evolving as its residents push for growth and its historic buildings are better embraced and (I hope I hope) the forces perpetuating the state of stagnant disprepair are voted out (Well, I'm hoping they will be).
PS: Wellbutrin not only helps one quit smoking, but also helps with the procrastination (when that procrastination stems from depressive lack of motivation), but I highly reccomend excersize instead.
Jobs are great for financing our lives, but they are not lives themselves. You should think about what you love and how to work towards doing it. I'm a paralegal by day, but I'm a writer and artist by night.
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