Eccentric Flower:199809/disgustingly unproductive
From Eccentric Flower
«September 1998 «Eccentric Flower
 |
twenty-three september ninety eight noon disgustingly unproductive This is developing into a disgustingly unproductive day in the middle of a disgustingly unproductive week. Oh, sure, I moved two web sites, but that was involuntary - an emergency response. I am feeling very unmotivated. Fortunately my workload is piling up to critical mass, which means that within a few days the guilt will be so overpowering that I have no choice but to get industrious. Finding the energy is never the problem, as you know if you've read one of these "postcards" when they stretch into 1000-word territory by accident. The problem is that I only want to get industrious about the things I want to work on, and at the moment that's a very narrow set, excluding many of my own projects and all of my job. Don't tell me the week's only half over. I have the gift of second sight: Tonight mouth organ must be written; that takes a whole night. Tomorrow I have committed to go see the recut Touch Of Evil because, you see, we never leave the house because I spend too much time on the computer. This weekend I'll have to work on another web project that's looking like a sinking ship and which I'm regretting my commitment to. And during the daytime on the next two days, I have to actually work on the things they pay me for. Furthermore there's some domestic friction about sex and attention in general. Defendant does not deny the charges. I do things with her and I keep thinking "I could be sitting at the computer writing right now," which is just plain wrong and I know it. At any rate, some of the weekend will undoubtedly be spoken for by my just sitting around and lavishing attention on someone's body. That leaves Friday and maybe Sunday night to: finish two image morphs I want to work on, try again to finish the CGI from hell, try to do another CGI for lanalee, and see if I can't salvage this Diner story I've started and given up twice. Note that all of the things in this paragraph are actually recreational activities! They may not sound like it to you, but they're what I do for fun. I accused her of not knowing how to have fun. That's unfair. What I really mean, of course, is that she doesn't have many solo recreational activities. I have plenty of solo activities. In fact, as you no doubt were already aware with your outside perspective, I have the opposite problem: I am trying to do too much. My optional activities are claiming my life. - - - All the things I could do for the remainder of the day - before having to go home and conjure up a sex column - I don't want to do any of them. I want to go outside and take a long walk by the Charles River in the first of the new fall winds. I want to breathe deeply. I want to go home and get my camera and take photos of the ducks from the Weeks Footbridge. It used to be that I didn't want to work on work. At the moment, I don't particularly want to work on play, either.
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