Hello Friends.
If you're a regular reader, you know
this blog usually comes out on Thursday, except for those times when
it doesn't. I often have a legitimate reason for my lateness, such as
illness, or not properly saving a document, but not this time. On
Thursday after work I started writing another entry and it might have
been one of those psychedelic cartoons where the words on the page
fall off and land in a heap of gibberish. Nothing I was writing was
making any logical sense. What's worse is that this entry was
previously thought out and constructed in the old bean counter. I
knew just what I wanted to say, just the points I was trying to make,
and I couldn't do it. Instead of coming back to it in an hour with
fresh eyes, or even sleeping on it, I just left it unfinished in my
documents folder and did absolutely nothing from 11.30 that night to
11.30 this morning, thirty-six hours later. Like I did actually
nothing. Not a thing.
Dream: Stop being so lazy.
Goal: Achievable. I know people who
aren't lazy. I know people who go to school and have full-time jobs.
I know people who do volunteer work on their weekends. I know people
with children. People who make all of their meals at home.
People who wake up early every morning to run. And not run from
anything either, just run because they want to run. So an un-lazy
life can be lead. But how?
Plan: Take a good look at my own lazy
habits in an attempt to jolt myself out of them.
Breaking down my last 36 hours is
shameful, but having a record of my aberrant behaviour should cause
me to think twice before repeating it. Okay, so Thursday was my last
in a string of long work days before Friday, my only day off (I'm
working through this weekend). So Thursday night I knew I could stay
up late, do my blog, and work on a few play projects, then have a
satisfying sleep in. Instead I wrote about two pages of blog that
were just awful. So bad I knew I could not publish them in any form.
I opened the two play files I'm working on and stared at them both
for about half an hour. I think I might have changed one line of
dialogue. Then I downloaded a Maria Bamford comedy special and
laughed and ate crackers and cheese and then watched 30 Rock with a
vodka mixed drink and then Parks and Rec and then YouTubed some news
bloopers for awhile and went to bed.
After a Friday sleep-in I did not
deserve, I put coffee on and added maybe three lines of dialogue to
one of the plays, then went on Facebook for quite some time. Then Jon
came home for lunch and we watched CBC for awhile which had a piece
about the Powerball lottery winners in the States. We fantasized
about what we would do with millions of dollars (I want several
homes, he wants to donate to the Kapeche Nation) and then he had to
go back to work. I took the bus to the mall downtown under the
pretense of Christmas shopping. I say pretense because while I might
have spent maybe 30 minutes in actual stores, I was really looking
for Cinnzeo. Cinnzeo is a cinnamon bun vendor of the HIGHEST QUALITY!
Weirdly, it only has locations in Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and
Alberta, Canada. I'm not sure what the connection is (unless oil
barons just really like frosting), but they make a good bun. Turns
out there was no location downtown, but a quick internet search at
the Apple Store told me there was one in West Edmonton Mall, the
largest mall in North America. You had better believe I took the half
hour cross town bus to the busiest, most baffling shopping centre I
have ever been to, walked the entire length of its monstrous
corridors, and finally got my bun.
Feeling guilty and fat, I went home,
got my swimsuit, and headed out for some swimmin'. Once I got there,
though, I realized I had forgotten my goggles, and so splashed around
for only about twenty eye-hurting minutes, went to the liquor store,
and came back home. Jon arrived, we ate dinner, and watched Dateline
and Family Guy until 1.30 in the morning. I fell asleep. I woke up.
I'm writing to you now.
What's disconcerting is that I like
blogging and working on plays. If I could, I'd do just those things
forever. Why then would I waste this time so spectacularly? I shudder
to think what else my laziness has cost me. How many opportunities I
let slip away in favour of a cinnamon bun or YouTube. I don't come
from lazy stock, either. My parents are hard-working people, as were
their parents. Several of my peers are on career and life
trajectories that require real work, commitment beyond an eight hour
shift and a punch card. I'm sure they permit themselves lazy days
too, but by god, they've earned them. Maybe that's the ticket.
Laziness is a credit we should all give ourselves once in awhile, as
long as we have the debits to support it. I plan to be one useless
blob for the couple of days I have off this Christmas, for instance,
and it would great to experience those days guilt-free. To afford the
pleasure of being lazy, it's time I got to work.
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