As the deadline to the last piece of coursework I’ll ever have to write in my entire life – unless I will be naive enough to go to school again after my postgraduate degree – creeps closer and closer, I’m realising how much of a pro at procrastination I’ve become with years of hardcore training and a lot of dedication to the cause of wasting time when you should be instead spending it wisely and productively, as my favourite flatmate always says when she’s inflicting her opinions on Facebook. All those articles on how to be successful, how to be productive, how to break through – well you get the picture.
The closest I’ve got to publishing something on those lines was a post suggesting how to find your favourite poet.
How likely it is to actually wake up and have a plan, not just for the day, for years ahead of you! Decades even! Notwithstanding my slight anxiety disorder, periodically resurfacing to haunt me until the time someone comes up who has brain tumor or some sort of crippling condition he/she faces with a smile on his/her face, my other new talent is NOT making plans lately.
I don’t even know if I’ll ever manage to get a credit card, with this newfound ability in just taking life as it is and burying any concern I might have about my future in the deepest recesses of my brain. Because let’s face it, everytime I sort of daydreamed about something it never happened, or it happened to somebody else (hence that feeling of seeing other people living your life. Not very nice). Which doesn’t really help me love humanity more.
I know I’m up to some good old fashioned time wasting when I use that playlist, the one I name “running” because I was daft enough to think I’d actually go running everyday and get fit. It’s superloud and will positively kill every ounce of concentration you might have, but it’s really good when you want to let your mind wander while your body is doing something else. Like cleaning, cooking or, er, running. To my credit, I did go running. Those 5 minutes will keep me up for at least another six months.
So here I am, wasting time even in my job searches. Serious jobs for grown ups? Like the ones that’ll get you mortgages, rent money, possibly some savings for rainy days? Na, I’ll just go record a demo for voice overs, since I bet there’s a crying need for my voice somewhere.
Horrifying as it was to hear my voice enthusiastically reading aloud a bank’s ad, I do have to say it was rather fun, especially when the super-duper posh Mac crashed and for once it wasn’t me fighting with a machine. I can’t think of nothing more embarrassing of always being the one who gets paper stuck in the photocopier or in the printer every single time at a workplace. Luckly I’m handy enough by now and I generally fix that unseen, but more than often somebody will be there to shoot me a look of pity and chivalrously un-stuck the paper.
Three coffees and five hundred twenty-seven words not related to an assignment due in three days later, I’d better actually write something. Just to have a Guilt-free Zombie Jesus Day tomorrow. I’ll just read that brilliant post on why Harry Potter would have been better off with Cho Chang, before I actually start finishing my school work.
Also. Change of soundtrack might be wise.